Penance
by T. R. Myers
Summary: Spy Drama. Set during the previous war, before Harry's birth. A young Death Eater, battling her demons, makes the choice to turn to the Ministry. Nothing less than her soul is at stake, but can confessing and turning state's evidence possibly be enough to exorcise her demons? Doing whatever it takes, she sets out on a quest to finally put an end to Voldemort's mechanations.
1. The Former Death Eater

Reader Beware: This story is violent. I don't think it's above and beyond a PG-13 film or a book that would get Scholastic's seal of approval, and certainly, it's not more violent than the novel's by Jo, but it is a type of violence that one might not associate with a Harry Potter tale. It is a bit more disturbing, and in at least one case, very realistic. The reason, is that this goes down a road that Harry Potter didn't. I'm sure there have been fanfics like this, but I've never read them, or found them. Once I get a few chapters into this, it should be clear what is going on, and I will know I have done a good job if reviewers come back and tell me this story reads like a Cold War Era spy novel. This is not about writing about my favorite characters, or simply writing another Harry Potter fanfic. This is about exploring the darker grown up world of wizardry that Jo's books hinted at but never really showed us until the end, when it was exploded out of proportion into all out war. This explores the secret side of war, the side that tends to be unexpectedly violent and disturbing; the side that plays tricks on peoples mind; the side that breeds paranoia; the side that requires a person to take any measures necessary to keep a secret.

* * *

Persephone Raven shifted her weight from one foot to another, staring nervously at the red phone booth. It was a simple matter of stepping inside and dialing the number. It was the right thing to do. It was the most noble thing she could have done in her thus-far short and sorry life. So why did the good and noble thing to do have to be the hardest thing she had ever done in her life? All week she had thought that her choice boiled down to deciding whether or not she should do this good and noble thing, or keep doing a job that made her sick and kept her up with nightmares. She stepped up to the booth and looked at her reflection.

She was a seventeen-year-old witch with pale white and flawless skin and black hair. She had been popular at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with boys falling over each other just to talk to her. Her black robes hid her frail wisp of a frame, and the hood over her head made her look like some tragic widow. What stood out most was her clear blue eyes. Her father had been muggle-born. Her mother had been a pureblood, the family having disowned her mother for having dared to marry a mudblood. While her father bore the name, Raven, her mother had been Corrina Malfoy. Looking at her reflection, she didn't see the aristocratic Malfoy features. All that indicated her lineage was those eyes and while Lucius had totally disowned his sister, Corrina, he had welcomed Persephone.

She stared past her reflection to the vandalized telephone in the booth. Just as she was reaching for the door, there was an incredible burning sensation on the inside of her left arm. It was a crippling pain and she was forced to clutch her forearm until it passed. Master was calling. She might have disapparated at that very moment, then all of the courage she had built up would have been wasted. So this was it. If she chose to answer the call, she would never be able to work up the nerve to return here again. If she chose to go forward with her plan, then she would have to ignore the call, and the Dark Lord would immediately know that she had betrayed him. The choice became very simple. She could answer the Dark Mark, or she could dial the telephone.

What kind of choice was that? The Dark Lord had promised greatness. He had promised a utopia for all of wizard kind. Hard decisions had to be made, but in the end, they would be well worth the rewards. Hadn't she agreed? Hadn't the choice to join the Death Eaters been her own, conscious decision? Didn't she believe in what she was doing? When she was sixteen, and the Dark Lord told her he needed her eyes inside of Hogwarts, spying on Dumbledore, she believed with all of her heart. Now, a year later, she wanted to say she still believed, but if she was truly honest with herself, then she would have to confess that the answer was, "No." Now, she suddenly realized that this was beyond just doing the right thing. What she was really deciding was whether or not to save her soul. She pulled the door open and stepped inside. Lifting the receiver, she dropped a coin in the slot and dialed 62442.

As if standing right next to her, a woman's voice said, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and reason for visiting."

"Um...Persephone Raven. I'm here to turn myself in."

"Thank you." A coin dropped into the slot and Persephone took it. It said "Persephone Raven: Auror Affairs." "Visitor, please take your badge and affix it to the front of your robes." The telephone booth began to lower into the ground. "You will be required to register your wand and submit to a full search at the main reception desk at the opposite end of the Atrium." For a moment, she was surrounded by darkness but found herself coming down into the Atrium. "Thank you for visiting the Ministry of Magic." She had been here once before. Stepping out of the elevator, she walked down the rows of fireplaces where Ministry workers and officials were coming and going via floo powder. The place was highly intimidating and spoke of an immovable body. No wonder there were people that hated the Ministry enough to rebel, such as the Dark Lord.

Persephone came to a desk with a bored looking wizard sitting behind it. Without looking at her he said, "All visitors must submit their wands at the front desk." She handed him her wand. He placed the wand on a reader. "10 inches, rosewood, sphinx hair core, in use for seven years." He filled out a slip and stuck it on spike with similar slips on it. "I keep this." He handed the wand back to her. "You get this back." Persephone looked at her wand questioningly, wondering whether or not she should actually be allowed to have it, given what she was there for. The wizard, still not looking up, continued. "What are you here for?"

Persephone said, "I'm here to turn myself in."

This piqued his interest and he looked at her for the first time. "Oh? What for?"

Persephone handed her wand back to him and said, "I'm a Death Eater."

The wizard took the wand and examined it, then opened a drawer. "In that case, I should probably keep this, too." He put the wand in the drawer and said, "Wait here." He went over to a group of windows.

After a minute or so, three wizards walked up. The way they carried themselves, she was certain they were aurors. She found that she couldn't stop shaking, that she had never been more frightened in her life, but she knew she had to do this. The three wizards took positions cornering her against the desk, though they weren't overtly aggressive. Most people probably wouldn't notice that they were being surrounded. One of them was a tall black man, not much older than her, shaved bald and wearing an earring in one ear and wore robes of beautiful red. Another had long, unkempt, brown or dark blonde hair and a number of scars on his face and wore black robes. The third man seemed positively ordinary in his brown suit and vest with nicely cut black hair and glasses, but he was a large man with broad shoulders.

It was the ordinary man who introduced himself. He smiled congenially and extended his hand. "I'm Eugene Sample. This is Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody."

Persephone accepted the handshake and said, "I'm Persephone Raven." Her voice was shaky. Why couldn't she get control of her body? "There are things I need to tell you." Oh, good grief, she sounded like she was falling apart. Then again, maybe she was falling apart.

Shacklebolt, his voice deep and soothing, said, "You don't have to be afraid. Listen, you're doing the right thing. We can go down to our office. We can get you some tea, and we can talk comfortably. Okay?"

Persephone could only manage to nod. Sample took her by the arm, gently, but with a firm enough grip to let her know she wasn't going anywhere else. "Shouldn't I be shackled or something."

"I beg your pardon?" said Sample. Moody just laughed.

"I mean, I'm dangerous. Shouldn't I be restrained some kind of way?"

Sample laughed. "Well, Moody might agree with you, but generally when a girl we never suspected of being a Death Eater turns herself in out of the blue, we tend to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, you don't look very dangerous."

Persephone was breathing hard now. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she couldn't help herself. She said, "Of course, I'm dangerous. I've killed two people."

Sample gave her an appraising look. As they stepped into a lift, he said, "Miss Raven, your future and what happens now depends entirely on you. Now, I believe you came here to set things right. Did you?"

Persephone nodded.

"Then what on Earth do we need shackles for, hmm?"

Inside the lift, a number of witches and wizards crowded inside. There were a number of paper airplanes overhead, some of which left the lift, while others joined the ones above. One wizard had burns all over his beard and robe and smelled strongly of sulfur and brimstone. Another man was holding onto the handle of a dolly carrying a large metal container covered in holes. It rattled sporadically. There was another man with horns atop his head. Most of the other witches and wizards seemed normal enough. As the lift ascended, it gradually emptied of witches and wizards, as well as paper airplanes. The man with the crate exited on the floor that housed the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. When the man with the horns got off, Persephone strongly suspected he was going straight to the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad.

"Second floor, housing the Department of International Cooperation, the Auror office, and the Department for Muggle Relations."

Moody spoke for the first time. "This is us." His voice was gruff and unfriendly, and it was clear that just the fact that she was a Death Eater was quite unforgivable to him.

The Auror office was located near the middle of the second floor. Persephone wasn't sure what she was expecting; a noisy office with Death Eaters sitting shackled waiting to be processed, perhaps. What she wasn't expecting was a messy row of cubicles that was almost devoid of life. She assumed the aurors were dedicating almost all of their time to pursuing the Dark Lord's minions. She was led into a room off to the side. It was an interrogation room, and she was directed to sit in a chair at a table. Moody, Sample, and Shacklebolt made themselves comfortable. Persephone didn't see where it came from, but Sample procured a pot of tea with biscuits and four mugs. He offered her a cup and she took a drink. The warm liquid had an almost immediate calming effect on her. Sample pulled out a sheet of parchment, stuck it to a clip board and held a quill to it.

Moody was the first to speak. "So, you've come to confess and name names. First thing's first, what do you want in exchange?"

Exchange? Did these auror's think she came here to cut a deal? "I-I wasn't asking anything in exchange."

Sample rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, "Alastor..."

"No," said Moody, "I'm serious. The young lady has decided to be noble and we'll be very thankful for that. The question is, how thankful are we expected to be?" There was something derisive in Moody's tone, and Persephone felt very offended by it, though she wasn't sure why.

She didn't hide her feelings. "Be as thankful or thankless as you like. I didn't come here for a payout. Do you want my statement or don't you?"

Sample raised a hand and said, "Alastor, can we please just hear what she has to say?"

Moody shrugged and sat down.

Sample continued. "I apologize. No Death Eaters have ever come quietly before. I'm sure Alastor doesn't know what to make of one that isn't putting up a fight."

Persephone nodded. "So how should I do this?"

"Just start at the beginning, wherever that is for you. When did Voldemort recruit you? Or maybe you feel your story starts even earlier, how you felt about life, the things that ultimately compelled you to join the Death Eaters. Take your time. There's no rush."

Persephone nodded again. That certainly covered a wide range. She began by forcing herself to say her master's name. Somehow, that made her decision to betray him feel final, as if saying his name would solidify the barrier she was trying to build between herself and the Dark Lord. "V-Vol-Voldemort...recruited me when I was 16. I came from a family known for their involvement in the Dark Arts. My uncle was Lucius Malfoy. That's why the Dark...why Voldemort chose me. He said he wanted someone in Hogwarts who could gather information on Professor Dumbledore and who could recruit other students to Voldemort's cause.

"My-my mother married a muggleborn wizard and the Malfoy's disowned her. Growing up, I never knew my family history. When I first went to Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin. I met Regulus Black. My Uncle Lucius had already graduated. You see, my mother was the oldest child. Lucius was only ten years older than me. Black introduced me to my family, and I spent more time with them than I did with my parents. They assured me I had to be properly educated about my wizarding pride. It was a very confusing time. They told me things about my mother, how she lacked proper pride and how she didn't care about me, because if she did, she would have chosen a better father, and that she was teaching me to disgrace the name of wizardry. Well, you know how you can be immersed in a world that tells you only what it wants you to hear. You start to believe it, but no matter how much you believe the lies, there's this thing; you remember the way things were before, and maybe you see things more clearly, or maybe you're just seeing things the way other people think you should see them.

"The fact that I couldn't understand my resentment towards my parents meant less than nothing. It was more than made up for by speeches about what it meant to be pureblood, how the viciousness of muggles have forced us to live in hiding like animals in fear. So I knew that my mother must be wrong even if I didn't exactly understand how, because these things made sense. Soon, I was eager to join the Dark Lord's crusade. When I was sixteen, he branded me with his mark," she pulled up her left sleeve and showed them her inner arm.

Shacklebolt said, "The mark is black. That means he's calling you. You risked a lot to come here."

"So I spied. I recruited. Whenever a ministry official showed up, I noted it. I noted the teachers' comings and goings. I listened in on conversations whenever I could manage it. Then the summer holiday came. Dolohov had killed Gideon and Fabian Prewett."

"Dolohov?" asked Moody. "You're certain of that?"

Persephone nodded. "Yes, because Voldemort asked me to kill their sisters, Margaret and Molly. I couldn't catch up to Molly-I found out later that that was because she had married Arthur Weasley, I was looking for the wrong name-but Margaret..." she couldn't find her voice for a moment. "I was told he wouldn't ask me to kill...and Margaret was innocent. The night I killed her, I couldn't stop throwing up. She had nothing to do with the aurors or the Order. Her only offense was being related to some of the members. It turned my stomach but I did it because surely, the Dark Lord had a good reason, and I simply wasn't seeing it. I was punished for my failure to catch the other sister. Voldemort is very unforgiving and he likes to practice his cruciatus curse. I kept telling myself that I deserved it, and as repayment for my failure, I was asked to kill Niles Clearwater."

"An auror," said Moody. "Bet you had trouble with him."

"The night I received that order, I was with Rosier and the Lestranges. He was expecting to find only Rosier but instead found all four of us. He managed to stun the Lestranges. Rosier dueled him. He didn't get to me in time. Him, I was able to justify it to myself. I reasoned that it was me or him. The thing is, I was never really convinced. Then I began my final year in Hogwarts. With no killing or violence to occupy me, I started to have nightmares. After a month, they started coming every night and they haven't given me peace since. I figured the Dark Lord would know what do, but when I got off the train after finally graduating and receiving my NEWTs, he jeered me and humiliated me for being weak. Then, he asked me to kill Sirius Black. I couldn't do it, so I came here instead."

"So that's your story," said Sample.

"I'll tell you as much as I can. Names, hiding places; what I can't tell you, I'll show you. I'd even be willing to turn double agent for you; whatever it takes. I can tell Voldemort I was captured trying to kill Sirius Black."

"One step at a time," said Moody.

Meaningful looks passed between Sample, Moody, and Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt said, "Then what do you expect to happen after that?"

Persephone said, "Well, I suppose I'll be sent to Azkaban."

"Perhaps...and perhaps not."

Persephone said matter of factly, "I've killed. Killers go to prison."

Sample said, "There are other ways to pay your debt to society." He sat back in his chair. "I want a full statement before we bring her before the Wizengamot. I want Kingsley to take it. He's never done it before. Alastor, be here in case he needs some help. I'm going to talk to Crouch. See what he'll agree to in exchange for her testimony."

"I told you. I don't want anything in exchange. I just want to make sure Vol-Voldemort can't ruin anymore lives."

Moody said, "We understand that, but we're not going to just let you take the maximum punishment after you came here and laid it all on the line to take responsibility. That's no more just than a cold-blooded killer walking free, and I think we've learned enough here to know that you're not cold-blooded. Now, I think a couple of years in Azkaban might be in order to make sure you don't forget your lesson, but Barty Crouch will throw away the key if you don't try to deal and I don't think that's right."

"It's no less than I deserve," said Persephone. Moody smiled.

Sample said, "I'm sure there's plenty of people who would agree with that, but I believe that when a person is willing walk to her doom to make good, she at least deserves a chance to prove herself. I'm going to talk to Crouch now, and I'm going to see to it you get a chance. When Kingsley takes your statement, he will want to know what you intend to tell us. Don't give him your information. Just tell us what type of information you're going to give us. The Wizengamut will want to hear it for themselves."

With that, Sample left her with Moody and Shacklebolt. The questions were simple and told them that she intended to give names, procedures, and meeting locations. When it was done, Moody said she'd be staying in a cell in the Ministry. It was guarded by dementors. She felt them before she could see them. She could hear voices in her mind...

"No..." she heard a woman scream. "I didn't do anything. Please don't kill me..."

Persephone was cast into a continuous nightmare.


	2. Before the Wizengamut

Persephone awakened, encompassed by cold and despair. The waking dreams had gone, but she still saw the dead face of Margaret Prewett when she closed her eyes. On the floor in front of her was a tray with bread, moldy cheese, and water. She had no appetite, but she drank the water. A voice said, "You don't want that anyway. We have something you'll like better." Persephone looked up to see Moody. The cell door swung open and Moody led her out. "Have some meat pies for you. Ham and cheese if you like." Persephone couldn't stop shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Here," said Moody, handing her a brown chunk of something. "It'll help."

Persephone took it and nibbled on the end. It was chocolate and as she swallowed, she felt a warmth she never thought she would know again spreading through her. Moody took her to a small room and she ate in silence. She ate three meat pies, grateful for them. When she was done, Moody took her by the arm and led her to the stairs leading up. "Is that what it's like in Azkaban?"

Moody nodded grimly. "Every waking moment."

She wasn't sure what came over her. Whereas before, she was convinced that she deserved exactly what she had just experienced, now she only had one thought in her mind. "I don't want to go."

"I thought you might change your mind."

"No, Mister Moody. I'll do anything. Any torture. I'll die."

Moody looked down at her with a scrutinizing eye. "Alright then. You tell Barty Crouch what he wants to hear, and you won't have to. Barty's already agreed to let you go free if you give him good information."

"Is that where you're taking me now."

"Yep, the Wizengamut is in session and your case is being heard first."

When she was taken to the cell, the lift took them down to the Department of Mysteries, then she descended stairs until it seemed she was in the middle of the Earth. Now, they climbed stairs, and just one floor below the Department of Mysteries, they turned down a hallway that ended with benches on one side and a series of doors on the other. There were more dementors here, and there were wizards sitting blindfolded on the benches. Just as the nightmares threatened to return, Moody steered her into one of the rooms and closed the door behind her. Moody did not accompany her.

There was a chair in the middle of the room surrounded by a circular wall. Peering down from atop the wall were almost two hundred wizards and witches as if seated in an amphitheater. She saw Moody walk around and seat himself right next to-she gasped, filled with shame-Albus Dumbledore. In the middle, at the front, directly facing her, was a stern middle-aged wizard with graying hair that was combed into an unnaturally straight part. He had a mustache that looked as if had been trimmed using a slide rule.

Seated next to him was a blonde witch that she knew to be named Selma Edgecomb. It was Edgecomb that sent out all of the school notices on behalf of the Ministry. It was Edgecomb who spoke. "I am Selma Edgecomb, keeper of the minutes, here we begin this session of the High Wizengamut, Grand Mugwump Bartimius Crouch presiding, here to answer the confession of the defendant Persephone Raven. The defendant will please be seated."

Persephone looked over to the chair. It was covered in shackles. She stumbled in her haste to obey, and lowered herself into the seat. The shackles did not restrain her, and she felt some of her nervousness subside.

Crouch, the man with the severe part, spoke with a booming voice. "Persephone Raven, you have freely given yourself into the custody of the Ministry of Magic, and freely confessed to being in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You have also confessed to the murders of Margaret Prewett and Niles Clearwater. I am also told that you have a number of names of Death Eaters that you might provide. Some, you have already mentioned in your statement. In exchange for information about the activities and accomplices of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you will be granted your freedom."

Crouch had to know that that was a death sentence. She couldn't go back to Voldemort without undoing what she had sought to achieve by confessing, and having betrayed the Dark Lord, there would be no place safe for her to go. She said, "Respectfully, sir, I feel that there is more that I can do to assist the fight against Voldemort (there was shudder in the room at the mention of the name) than by just giving you information."

Crouch said, "Do you have information?" His voice was harsh and threatening, clearly indicating that he would discuss nothing until he had what she could offer him now.

"I do, sir. I have the names of several Death Eaters, at least six of them members of Voldemort's inner circle."

"Very well, then. Proceed."

"His most trusted associates are Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange, and Antonin Dolohov."

Crouch nodded. "We are already familiar with Malfoy and Dolohov, but thanks to you we have been able to confirm our suspicions about the Lestranges. Snape was never suspected. Continue."

"Evan Rosier, Regulus Arcturus Black, who recruited me to the order, Narcissa Malfoy, and Lyle Waylan, who I worked with to spread misinformation to the Ministry regarding the whereabouts of one Arturo Lourdes, recently settled here from Spain, and having given a large financial sum to Voldemort." She slowed down when she noticed people rushing to take notes. Clearly they hadn't expected her to give specific details. "There is also Hades Norwell, an accountant hiding the financial activities of the Death Eaters, Anthony Bulstrode, Eileen Wittier, Terrance Combs, all of whom are blockheads, little more than hired muscle, and that was all I was ever allowed to know. I met most of them through Regulus Black. I was very close with his family. I met Lourdes and Norwell through my Aunt and Uncle Lucius and Narcissa."

"Very well, if there are no others..."

"There are also meeting places. One of them is in muggle London. Number 2304 Tottingham Court Road, and another is 37 Knockturn Alley, and then there is one buried beneath Glastonbury Abbey. Also, Lucius Malfoy's house serves as their headquarters when Voldemort is staying in London."

One witch, dressed in black velvet robes, with short blond hair stood and asked, "If he's not in London, then where else does he stay?"

Persephone shook her head. "We're subjected tongue-tie curses. The only reason I was able to tell you those is because I'm supposed to be able to share that information with other Death Eaters." The woman was apparently satisfied with the answer because she nodded and sat back down.

"I can tell you he uses his father's house. I can't tell you where. We have safe houses we use throughout the town, usually in muggle London, away from heavy wizard traffic. During an operation, a messenger leaves an envelope marked with the dark mark that contains the address of a safehouse. The envelope ignites if anyone who doesn't have a dark mark attempts to read it."

"That information is certainly useful. You have more than fulfilled the terms of the deal. We simply need to confirm-"

"I'm not here for any deal. I want to stop them! I want to keep anyone else from being hurt!" Persephone was surprised to find that she was standing. She sat down quickly.

Crouch observed her, appraised her. "You realize that there is only one way you could be useful to us."

"You mean for me to go back to him." Her voice was distant now. She knew what that would mean.

"You suggested it yourself, if you recall. You told Sample that you could simply say that you failed to kill Sirius Black and was captured in the process. If you really want to help us beyond what you have already done, return to his service and give us as much information as you can gather, for as long as you can."

"I'll do it," said Persephone without hesitation, "only I'll need someone to teach me occlumency. Voldemort is a master legilimens."

Before Crouch could speak, Dumbledore spoke. "I can personally see to that, and I quite agree; you will need the best training in occlumency if you are to overcome Voldemort." Professor Dumbledore leaned toward Crouch and spoke so softly that Persephone couldn't hear. Whatever he was saying, Crouch clearly was not happy. Still, he seemed to relent and Dumbledore returned his attention to Persephone. "Very well, you will return to Hogwarts along with a team of aurors that will be helping to secure the school from the Death Eaters. Sample shall require that you be my personal bodyguard. I will consider it quite unnecessary, being a wizard of some modest talent in my own right, however I will relent, if for nothing else, preserving Sample's peace of mind. I believe that that arrangement shall be ideal for our endeavors. Now, I believe my esteemed colleague, Bartimius has something he wishes to add."

Crouch folded his hands and examined Persephone carefully. "Ms. Raven, we understand the course of action that you have agreed to undertake, and I do ask if you understand the dangers you face?"

Persephone didn't know why Crouch was asking this now. He was perfectly happy to throw her to the wolves earlier. "No more dangerous than anything else I've done. Certainly not as dangerous as just telling you what I know and then walking out of here on my own." A whisper of a chuckle caught her ear and she saw a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye.

Crouch directed his eyes to his hands, clearly deciding how to respond to that. "You're brave enough. I just wanted to be sure you weren't a fool. Clearly, you have a knack for reading the situations you find yourself in. Obviously, your lapse in judgment in joining the Death Eaters merely goes to show that nobody is perfect. Very well, if you feel you are equal to the task, then we give you every protection and assistance the Ministry is within its power to provide. During the time you will spend at Hogwarts, your absence will be easy enough to explain. You were detained by the Ministry on suspicion of Death Eater activity, and you were held indefinitely until your defense was verified. You have already experienced the dementors, so you will be able to accurately recall their effects if you are questioned."

This was much more reasonable than what Crouch had previously offered, and Persephone breathed a bit more easily now. She felt she deserved the worst, and was willing to accept it, but that didn't mean she wanted it. Lowering her head, she said, "Thank you, members of the Wizengamut, and you Mr. Crouch and Professor Dumbledore."

"Good, now that that's settled, I remand you into the custody of Alastor Moody and Eugene Sample. They will brief you on our procedures and arrange your training as an auror, training you will require if you are to undertake this mission. Once we have confirmation of your evidence, your case will be dismissed."

Persephone bowed her head and expressed her appreciation. Eugene Sample appeared behind her and said, "There's a door you can take to get around the dementors." She followed him quickly as more witches and wizards filed into the Wizengamut.

Persephone said, "We have no idea who all Voldemort employs. Perhaps it would be best if I wasn't seen by people, and my name not widely spread." They came out into the corridor that led into the Department of Mysteries. She wondered if there was something magical in the architecture, because the Wizengamut was a full floor down and there were no stairs on Sample's bi-path.

"We've got that covered," he said. "In fact, you have staunchly denied anything to do with the Death Eaters, and because of the dark mark on your arm, we are holding you indefinitely for questioning. Of course, anyone except those of us in the know are allowed access to you so if anyone outside our little circle goes looking for you, they will simply run into a bored clerk who seems to only know how to say, "Sorry, restricted prisoner'."

After just a few minutes, she found herself back in the auror office. Now that she was no longer a prisoner, per say, she felt a bit more freedom to look around. The office was like many muggle office buildings, divided into cubicles, except instead of pens, there were quills, except for telephones, there were owls, and except for florescent lamps, there were candles and oil lanterns. Her heart nearly jumped into her throat when she looked into a cubicle and saw a picture of Margaret Prewett staring back at her. She forced herself to look away and she found herself facing a cubicle that either belonged to a muggle-born, or a half-blood that lived in the muggle world. In addition to the quills and the photos of suspects and evidence, there was a typewriter, which Persephone was certain made writing much easier, and a motionless picture, obviously a poster, of a muggle woman, barely clad, her name emblazoned across the top, "Cheryl Tieg".

As Sample led her away, she said, "You know, I wonder that the Ministry doesn't make typewriters standard."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, my mother said my father used to use one. She said he could write a 600 word letter in five minutes that would take her an hour or more to write, and his hands wouldn't even hurt. The print is so neat and quite easy to read. Say what you may about wizarding superiority, but I think the thing a bloody marvelous invention."

Sample smiled and said, "Hmm. That new lad, Dawlish; he's the one that brought that contraption; he says the same thing. It's certainly worth noting. It would certainly save a great deal of time. I may make a request to the Ministry for consideration."

After a moment, she found herself in a massive room with vaulted ceilings at least as high as the top of the Ministry. There were portable rooms with potion equipment and through the rest of area, what looked like an obstacle course. As she looked more closely, she could see that there were ledges coming out of the wall and some platforms suspended in midair by no visible means of support. On the floor were running courses with inclines, jumps, crawling tunnels, and circled areas labeled as apparation points. There was a running path that she noted led up the wall and onto the ceiling. Looking past the floating platform, there were perches hanging even higher.

Sample said, "Ideally, you'd get a full year training here in the Ministry as an auror. You have two months until it is time to go Hogwarts and receive your special training from Professor Dumbledore. Two months is a good start, but there is no reason we can't continue your training as an auror at Hogwarts. You understand why you need to be trained as an auror, right? You know it's not about you pretending to be a bodyguard for Dumbledore. It's about you pretending to be an assassin for Voldemort."

Persephone felt a coldness creeping up her spine. "Do you expect me to kill?"

"Absolutely not...but he will. You may have to. If he orders you to kill an auror, or a Ministry official, or a member of the Order of the Phoenix, well that's no big thing. We can change the bloke's name and send him to Australia, and we can even provide you proof of the kill if Voldemort asks for it, but if he asks you to kill a Death Eater that doesn't measure up, or a criminal he's doing business with..."

"Then you may not be able to change that situation."

Sample nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. "You knew going in this wasn't going to be easy. It's all going to come down to how far you're willing to go to maintain your cover."

Yes, she knew. She knew from the beginning. "Let's be about our business then. What is this?"

"This is our endurance course. An auror is expected to be in peak physical condition. Over there is our potion lab, and this endurance course is also used to teach dark arts defense, and some dark arts in its own right. Potions: you are expected to be able to identify poisons, and know how to formulate their antidotes. Also, disguises. Polyjuice potion is going to be one that you definitely need to know how to brew. Don't forget potions that alter minor features and details. Weapons and explosives will be a must. You will spend a great deal of time on potions. Transfiguration: you will notice that this course doesn't one hundred percent cater to humans. In your transfiguration class, you are told that animagi are required to register with the Ministry what animal they turn into and their markings. Aurors are admonished not to do so. Ordinarily, being able to turn into an animal is not an absolute requirement, even though we do grade on it. In your case, I want you to have every advantage you can get. I am the only one here who teaches how to do it. Choose an animal you feel a close affinity to and we will be able to start your education in animagecraft straight away. Also, for transfiguration, once again, essential to disguising yourself, also to hiding evidence. Charms: need I even elaborate upon how essential charms are to self-defense?"

Persephone smiled and said, "This is just like school all over again."

"Which is exactly why spending a full year at Hogwarts will not greatly interrupt our schedule. You will learn how to be invisible in every way imaginable. You learn every way that exists to avoid conflict and injury. You will learn to be as dangerous as your adversary and make no mistake, even once the Death Eaters have gone, there will always be enemies aplenty. If you do well, once this is all over, you may want to consider making a career of this."

Persephone considered and decided not to answer. Instead, she asked the next logical question. "Where do I begin?"

He gestured to the course. "Let's see what use you make of the obstacles."

Persephone suddenly felt her stomach clench. Obstacle courses weren't exactly her thing. She was certainly dressed for it, her robe and the pants and shirt underneath were meant for active work. She took off her robe so that it wouldn't get in her way and went to the start of the course.

"What should I do?"

Sample shrugged and said, "Run. If you come to an obstacle, use it as it was intended. Don't worry about creativity. That will come as you learn. It gets really interesting when you've got aurors firing stunners at you. Just one rule: no magic."

That wouldn't be too much of a problem. Though, she was sure she had plenty of magic, but without her wand, she'd be hard pressed to do anything really impressive. She approached the course with the same enthusiasm she had remembered approaching quidditch. Only now, she realized that seekers didn't do a great deal of endurance work. Unfortunately, she didn't even manage to get across the hanging bars. Sample kept making her go back to the beginning of the bars, frustrating her, and leaving her more and more exhausted.

After half an hour of faineant attempts, Persephone sat down in front of the bars, trying desperately to catch her breath.

Sample walked up next to her and said, "Well, it's clear that we're going to have to work on our upper body strength. You know what that means?" He had obsequious smile on his face.

"Let me skip the bars?" asked Persephone hopefully.

"Good, old-fashioned exercise."

"Does this mean pushups?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell, I hate pushups!"

"Pullups are a must, also."

"I am 4 feet and eleven inches tall. I can't even reach a bloody pullup bar."

"You're the one that want's to take the game to Voldemort..."

Persephone wore a deep frown, and she realized she was pouting. "Your pullup bar better have a step up."

"We don't have to. Nobody's using the course. You can use the hanging bars."

He had a point, and with the ladder, they would be easier to reach. She climbed and grabbed onto the first hanging bar. Making one last attempt to move on to the second bar, she gave up and dangled there for a moment. She tried pulling herself up and felt her shoulders and forearm begin to burn. Her chin was level to her elbows when the burning became so intense she couldn't stand it anymore. Still, she struggled not to drop.

"There is no reason you can't do one." Persephone forced herself higher, feeling like knives were stabbing her elbows. "How on Earth did you manage to kill Niles Clearwater in your condition?" Persephone managed to get her head over the bar. "Finally. Do another, if you can manage it." She hung for a moment, trying to rest her arms, the burning never quite subsiding while her muscles had to hold her in the air. She tried again. This time, she felt the burn in her shoulders and her neck. Her arms were in excruciating pain. Sample was chuckling now. "You know, watching you is actually rather sad." That pushed her to two. "Good. Drop."

Persephone tried to speak, but found her wind was so weak she could only manage, "Ah gah do anuddah."

"No, you're out of shape and you're about to overexert. Give your arms a fifteen minute break." Finally, she did as she was told and while she heaving, Sample said, "Two! We've got our work cut out for us. Look at you. Two, and you're soaking wet."

If Persephone's cheeks hadn't been so red from exertion, she'd be blushing in humiliation. Sample was right, of course.

He patted her on the shoulder and said, "It's not your fault. Our magical education focuses so much on wands that we fail to address the needs of the body. It's a serious deficiency, if you ask me. Did you play quidditch?" Persephone nodded. "Seeker?" She nodded again. "You'll find that many of the same muscles you use to maneuver a broom apply here. You're just using your arms to pull up, but you should be using your shoulders and your back even more so. Go drink some water. When you come back, try again."

Persephone did as she was told. One good thing about this, her mind wasn't wandering to her darker feelings, dwelling on her recent past. It was clear to her how damaging and harmful brooding was, yet still, she felt she would never escape Margaret Prewett's accusing face. Getting water from a pump until she felt better, she went back to Sample, who made her work another hour and a half. Ultimately, she was able to do much better taking Sample's advice, finding her efforts to be much easier, but still, she only managed to do six on her best attempt. Sample assured her that she'd get stronger. Not that it mattered for anything, but Moody returned her wand at the end of the day. It was as heavy to her as a lead weight.

The next morning, her arms were so stiff and sore she could barely move them. That didn't deter Sample, any. Just as he promised, she did pushups and he put her right back on the hanging bars. It was amazing how exhausting two hours a day could be, but then she would spend another six hours each day learning poisons and antidotes with Moody, and various protective and offensive spells and charms from Kingsley. It was nothing like her classes at Hogwarts. These studies were intensive and grueling and Persephone got the distinct impression that these aurors were trying cram a year of training into the coming two months.

After six days of this punishing course, she was allowed the whole day off. She slept most of the day, and when she was up, had an escort take her to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies so that she could get some kind of care for her aching muscles. After her day off, she went into the endurance course feeling much better, and discovered that the pullups were much easier, so much so that she made another attempt at swinging across the bars. She made it halfway across before she tired out too much to continue, and the previous week's regimen resumed in full force. The next week saw her make it all the way across the hanging bars and continuing through course. All of it was muggle inspired: rope net ladders, which were much harder to climb than they looked, tree swings, climbing walls, up to platforms that had barely any room for her fingers let alone her body, requiring Persephone to shinny to the next platform. She fell several times before she finally managed it, learning that a levitation charm activated just before she hit the floor.

Before Persephone knew it, a month had passed and she was already able to run most of the main course without stumbling. She was certain that the magically floating platforms required magic to achieve and the path that went on the walls and the ceiling definitely did. Once she was able to reach the regular mounted platforms, Eugene finally went easy on her exercise regimen, only having her exercise a half an hour before running the course, and then, he cut out her morning exercises entirely, only having her warm up before running the course. "Everyone manages it, eventually," he told her.

If anything, Moody's lessons were just as grueling, even if they weren't as exhausting. Moody impressed upon her the importance of always preparing one's own food and drink and only ever drinking from one's own hip flask. She couldn't just assume it was paranoia, as Eugene insisted that Moody's word was the gospel of survival. Truthfully, poisons and antidotes became a fascinating point of study, if for nothing other than sheer number of deadly poisons that were easily cured by various, readily available, ordinary ingredients. Moody also relentlessly tested her on curses and counter-curses and consistently made favorable remarks about her speed, the sheer number of spells she could cast without speaking, and her wide array of curses and counter-curses.

A week before the school season began, Persephone practiced her disguises and walked with Eugene through Diagon Alley.

"So, Mr. Sample," asked Persephone, "How have I been doing?"

They stopped at a pet shop that specialized in a full range of pets, not just the magical variety, and took a look around.

Eugene said, "Oh, it's really still early to tell. At this point, most of what you know is still thanks to your Hogwarts education. Still, your N. E. W. T.s were more than acceptable. I think you got all Os except for two. There was an E in transfiguration, and I believe a T in History of Magic."

"History of Magic. I don't remember that class..." she snapped her fingers. "Oh, yes. I used that for my midafternoon nap time." She picked up a box turtle and gently stroked his forehead.

Sample snorted. "You're not the only one. Anyway, as I was saying. We won't really know what kind of progress you're making until we're a few months in. If you made me guess now, I'd say you're running about average on the obstacle course, transfiguration, charms, a little slow in poisons and antidotes, and Moody says you excel at curses and counter-curses. Of course, for what you're going to do, none of those are going to be your most important skill, are they?"

"No, I'll be learning that from Professor Dumbledore." She put the turtle back in his enclosure and moved on to an umbrella cockatoo. "They say these birds are smarter than owls. If I could access my account without raising suspicions, I'd buy her. She's lovely, she is."

"You know, it's not too late to change your mind. Crouch was more than happy to let you go free, and with what you've already learned, you could easily disappear."

Persephone fed the cockatoo walnuts from her hand. "You'd let Niles Clearwater's killer go just like that?"

"You're good person, whatever you've done. Quite a few of us have grown rather fond of you. You've quickly become Moody's favorite, and that is saying something."

Persephone smiled. "No, I was in this to the bitter end the moment I decided not to answer Voldemort's call, and you know it."

"Yes, I know it."

"Raven."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My last name. You told me I should learn to be an animagus. I want to be a raven."


	3. The Eighth Year

Persephone's last week at the Ministry passed in the exact manner as the previous seven weeks; exhausting. A new series of lessons began with Sample as he began teaching her how to transform into her namesake. He began with a refresher course on transfiguration. He elaborated on the many dangers of transfiguration. Some accidents were irreversible, particularly catastrophic misalignment of vital parts and organs of the body. These were things she should already know with her E in transfiguration, but he assured her that it was most difficult where humans were concerned. One of the greatest dangers in transfiguration was the maintenance of mental function. If Persephone were to successfully transfigure into a raven, and did it improperly, the very real danger existed that she could be stuck with the mind of a raven, the human aspect of her lost forever.

The danger in this didn't come in the fact that the bird's brain was smaller. As it happened, most birds were as intelligent, and often more so than humans, and even those that were less intelligent tended to have more complex brains. The problem was that their brains were incredibly alien. If Persephone had chosen to be a dog or a wolf or a rat, there would be very little danger of losing herself as these animals had brains that were structurally similar to humans, so even if the animagus transforming into one of these three failed to account for the requirements of his or her own mind, these animals' brains were similar enough that the animagus would still have some semblance of a sense of self and could be recovered. Persephone wondered then, why would an animagus risk repeated transfiguration into such an alien creature as a bird, or a reptile, or an insect-and as it happened, cats were similarly risky?

"It's important to understand," said Eugene, "that your brain isn't the only thing that remembers. Your body has a memory, too. If you can manage to successfully pull off an animal transfiguration upon yourself and maintain your higher cognitive functions, your body will come to know that form. Your second time transfiguring, your body will have a general understanding of how things are supposed to feel, and it will be easier to assume your animal form. After three or four such transformations, the body will be fully familiar with the animal form, and will reflexively return to that form whenever you transform, completely negating the danger."

Persephone nodded and said, "So the key to safely transforming is being comfortable in my own skin."

"Precisely. Those of us who are accomplished animagi have it down pat. We don't even have to think of what we want to become. We simply decide to transform, and our bodies..." he snapped his fingers, "'Ah! Time to become a raven.' They know exactly what to expect."

"So, when do we begin?"

"Not for awhile. You need to familiarize yourself with the anatomy of a raven, its behavior, and its social life. You need to understand its flight mechanics and its bodily functions. There are also extensive rules to learn. There are laws that apply specifically to animagi that you need to understand. The problem is that even though you may maintain your higher mental functions and memories, you will adopt the urges and instincts of the animal you become. Not until you are familiar with the codes of conduct, and are fully versed the nature of ravens, will you be permitted to attempt transfiguration. In fact, it would be helpful if you could directly observe some ravens."

Thus, when the day came to return to Hogwarts, Persephone left for King's Cross, she had as many books as if she were returning to classes. She woke up that day in small safe room in the Ministry, on her hard bed, with the sink in the corner of the room, and a door leading into a room with a commode and a tub. It was the tiniest of efficiency apartments. After washing for the morning, she stood in front of the mirror at the sink and regarded herself for a moment. She raised her wand to her head, and in a moment, her black hair had become vibrant red. Moving the wand down slightly, her crystal blue eyes became hazel. Her button nose tapered and became straight and hawkish. She gave her jaw a stronger angle. After thinking a moment, she raised her eyebrows slightly. There, she looked like a completely different person.

Still, it wasn't enough. She was as vertically challenged as could be and that was a fact. It was true that in a throng of children, her height would help her to blend in. Still, she was being presented as an auror guarding Professor Dumbledore. A 4 foot and eleven inch wispy auror flanked by the giant Sample and the gorilla shaped Moody would draw second glances as if she were a kangaroo strolling onto the platform. She thought about the incantation necessary, then realized there wasn't one. She'd have to improvise. She held her wand horizontally above her head and said, "Reach!" She felt her back strain in a way not unlike she had felt on the hanging bars. Her thighs and knees felt as if belts were clamping all the way down. Her shoulders felt as if a ton of books had suddenly dropped on them. Nothing hurt; it was just very uncomfortable. She felt as if she were being squeezed through a tube. Just as she felt as if her body was preparing to launch her through the wall, everything went back to normal and she was six inches taller.

She looked at her clothes and made a few magical alterations, and she was set. Proud of her ingenuity, she turned smartly towards her luggage, and promptly fell face first to the floor. Stumbling to her feet again, she took a step with her right foot, and then lurched and staggered to her right. She took slow, careful steps and took the five steps needed to reach her luggage. Reaching for an attache case atop the large trunk, she hit it so hard that it went flying across the room. Carefully she walked over to pick it up. Bending over for the case, she banged her head against the wall. She shouted in pain into the empty room and put a hand on top of her head, then picked up the attache case. She was thankful this was only temporary. As inconvenient being under five feet tall could be, she was quite happy with her natural height.

Banging her knuckles against door paneling as she reached for the knob, she muttered a frustrated curse. Threw the door open, and then slammed it shut. A Ministry employee in a muggle suit greeted her. "Are your bags ready?"

Persephone said, "Yes, they're inside."

She continued down to the auror office, drawing numerous stares from the people she passed-she was sure she was walking quite strangely-gradually getting steady on her feet as she grew accustomed to her new height. Sample, Moody, and Shacklebolt were waiting for her. Not one of them recognized her at first. Sample looked up at her, a bemused expression on his face. He said, "Can I help..." A broad grin cut into his features. "Now that is excellent work, Ms. Raven." He stood, and though was still much taller than her, he didn't seem as tall as he always did. "Oh...you made yourself taller. Changing your height takes a bit of getting used to."

"Yeah," said Persephone, "I figured that out the hard way." She rubbed the top of her head.

"An excellent idea, though, given your normal height makes you easy to recognize." He looked around. "Alright then, Moody and Shacklebolt are going to Hogwarts under the premise of helping secure the school. You, Persephone, are to maintain your current disguise and act publicly as Professor Dumbledore's personal bodyguard. That simply means 'be near him at all times'. Your name will be Priscilla Terry. I am going as Professor Dumbledore's new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He seems to be having trouble keeping them these past few years." He looked around and clapped his hands together. "Alright then, everyone, let's get moving."

The day was largely uneventful. King's Cross was secure, with no suspected Death Eaters skulking around Platform Nine and Three Quarters, though they were certain that someone was watching the platform for the Death Eaters. They were confident nothing gave away Persephone's true identity. They took the compartment in the back of the train and locked the compartment door. Sample went over a set of dossier folders, while Kingsley and Moody quizzed Persephone about poisons and antidotes. The thing was, she knew that Death Eaters had this level of training and education, and it was beginning to bother her.

"Now," said Moody, "a bezoar is generally hard to find, but if you know what a bezoar is, you can figure out how to get them easily enough. Remember that it is a stone from the gall bladder of a goat, and a very painful thing for the poor fellow to have. You can force a goat to manufacture and pass them, but they're common enough among normal populations of goats and those goats will be grateful to ye if you help them get rid of them. In addition, you can stretch a bezoar a long way if you use it in an antidote. You only need to dissolve one in a fairly large batch and that will take out most any dangerous poison you'll run across."

Persephone listened with care, trying her best to commit the information to memory. She paraphrased the information back to Moody.

"Very good. Do you have any questions before we continue?"

"Yes." Persephone pursed her lips and chewed upon her question for a moment. "Why did Voldemort recruit me?"

Moody looked briefly confused. "I don't think that's part of the course material." When he understood, he shook his head as if trying to shoo a buzzing fly. "Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose there are a number of reasons."

"So why me? I'm short, never had much exercise-"

"Well, a lot of witches don't. It's not exactly as if Hogwarts has a gym. I mean, sure you get plenty of exercise running from wayward spells or potions, but isn't as if you get a full body workout."

She turned to Sample, who had put down his files and gave her careful consideration. He put his hands together as though praying and frowned in thought. Persephone said, "I wouldn't have even qualified as an auror, would I?"

Sample smiled humorlessly and said, "No, you wouldn't have. Admittedly, you passed your N. E. W. T.s with flying colors. You have the right mind for it, but you have a body type that is traditionally difficult to maintain good physical condition and is generally wracked with medical problems by the time it reaches it's late 20s and early 30s. You are naturally frail." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "At first I thought that Voldemort might have recruited you because at your size, you would generally go unnoticed. You would be an ideal information gatherer, but then that wouldn't be sufficient to brand you with the dark mark. Then you told us he had you kill. You're far too young for such work."

Persephone didn't break Sample's gaze. There was more he wasn't saying.

Moody said, "Alright, if you really want to know what we think: we think he recruited you because your mother had the nerve to marry a muggle-born. What's worse, that reflects on Lucius, who as a man of 'proper wizarding pride'...would be expected to keep his sister from doing something so unforgivable. We think he was making an example of you."

"He was expecting me to die?"

"Or be caught," Kingsley said, "I can't imagine Lucius Malfoy would feel all that good about his young niece earning a life sentence at Azkaban under the dementors. You see, Voldemort doesn't think of anyone as people. They're just tools to be used and when his resources misbehave, he has no qualms about using kids to punish their parents."

Sample said, "But your problem was a double-edged sword. You were supposed to fail, but you proved to be a useful resource. That's why he kept sending you after harder and harder targets. If you fail, then you've sufficiently punished Lucius, and if you succeed, you win a great victory for the Death Eaters, but I think Voldemort was pushing hard. Sirius Black is one of the most dangerous men alive right now and absolutely nobody you would send a child to fight. You were literally in a position of being damned if you do and damned if you don't. I'll give you this; as frail as you are, you're a tough little thing. Seeing you perform, I think you'll make a good auror." He looked down at his files. "Now, I need to put my auror work away and get to work memorizing my student list."

Persephone couldn't help but smile a little as Moody irritably resumed his lecture on where to find rare ingredients. The Hogwarts Express continued on through the English countryside to its destination. They stepped to the front of the train so that they could get a good first look at all of the students. Persephone was surprised to see how easy it was to pick out the first years. She never realized just how small they were and everyone of them appeared confused and lost. It must have been a tremendous growth spurt between first and second year, and of course, that would be a determining factor in the transitions from school to school.

Persephone and Kingsley immediately recognized Hagrid's voice calling, "First years, this way!"

Sample observed the large man for a moment and said, "Well, they certainly replaced Ogg with a frightful fellow."

Persephone didn't know who Ogg was, presumably the groundskeeper preceding Hagrid. Kingsley said, "He was there my first year, but then Hagrid took over the post."

"When was that?"

"1970."

That would make Kingsley just two years older than Persephone. She took a good look at him now. It seemed odd that she had gone to school with this man and didn't remember someone as striking as him. Then again, she had gone to Hogwarts with hundreds of students. How could she be expected to remember them all. Besides, a man like Kingsley was in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw; exactly the kind of people Slytherins didn't associate with.

"Is he safe?" asked Sample.

"Hagrid?" asked Persephone. "Hagrid's harmless. An animal lover. He loves everything from kittens and dragons, and thinks dragons are just as cute and cuddly."

"Well I wouldn't exactly call that harmless. He may be a friendly chap but what's to stop him from letting a vicious beast loose?"

Kingsley laughed and said, "He already has a couple of times."

"Enough jabbering," said Moody. "This place could be swarming with Death Eaters."

Persephone would have dearly liked to be able to tell him otherwise, but wasn't entirely convinced he was wrong. After all, Voldemort's obsession with Hogwarts, and in particular, Professor Dumbledore, was already the stuff of legend in the wizard community. When they approached the school carriages, Persephone saw for the second time the thestrals, a reminder of what she had done. She tried very hard to avoid looking at the skeletal horses, but her eyes didn't seem to want to leave them. When she climbed into the carriage, Kingsley said, "We can all see them. They're not there to accuse. They're there because they just are. Everyone dies. Don't let it get to you."

It felt strange to enter the castle with three aurors instead of her classmates, but she knew that ordinarily she shouldn't be entering the castle at all. When she was done directing students to the great hall, a tall, black robed middle-aged witch approached. Persephone and Kingsley new who she was, but they weren't certain about Sample and Moody. When Minerva McGonagell approached, Persephone realized that everyone here knew each other.

"Eugene, Alastor," she said, "are you absolutely certain this is necessary?"

Sample said, "Given the fact that we now know that the Death Eaters are recruiting from within the school, it is an absolute necessity."

Moody said, "Minerva, we don't doubt your ability to secure the school, after all, you and your staff taught most of our aurors, but we do need to be here to keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

Professor McGonagell said, "Oh, very well." She turned her sharp eye to Persephone and said, "And you should know that it took a great deal of courage to admit your wrongdoings. Make it count." She turned to address them all and said, "You'll all be sitting at the teacher's table for the great feast. Eugene, you will, of course, be seated in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position next to our potions master, Professor Slughorn. Alastor and Kingsley, you will seated at the end, and Persep-Priscilla, due to your special role here, you will be seated at the left hand of Professor Dumbledore. Five minutes until the start of the feast, if any of you four are not there on time, you'll have me to answer to. Now get going."

Persephone obediently marched to the great hall, Sample leading her through one of the backrooms that she assumed was a teacher's lounge, if the fireplace and the plush couches were any indication. A hookah sat on an end table next to an armchair. She wondered who it belonged to. She certainly didn't remember any of her teachers smoking. Finally, exiting into the great hall it was clear that nearly everyone was seated. Several teachers turned to look back. Professor Slughorn waved to Sample, as though he was hard to miss. Professor Dumbledore gestured for Persephone to join him. The noise of the student body shouting over each other to be heard was earsplitting. The teachers didn't seem to take note as they carried on with their personal conversations.

As she sat, Professor Dumbledore said, "You give an old man hope, Ms. Raven, though from now on, I shall have to call you Ms. Terry. It is only in the cacophony of young voices screaming their enthusiasm that we may speak freely. A wonderful analogy for the innocence of childhood, don't you agree?"

"Well, I never really thought of it that way, but I guess I can see it now."

"Ah, such is the nature of the human spirit, that we cannot see what is right before us until those foolish enough to observe such things point them out for us. Then, you have learned the folly of closed eyes. Who knows what you may one day observe? I would have preferred that the next time I should see you, it would be without the burden of your past mistakes. Young souls should not be so imprisoned as yours."

At that moment, Hagrid entered leading the first years. There were so few of them; no more than a dozen. Professor McGonagell came out with a stool and the school sorting hat and the noise in the room began to die. Persephone listened astutely to all around her while the sorting hat sang its song. She listened as the first years were sorted into their houses, and she looked at the students for people she recognized. There was Barty Crouch Jr. at the Slytherin table, tall and and lanky with straw hair. He looked nothing like his father. He wore a bright Head Boy badge on his robes. Persephone expected nothing less of him. She didn't dare tell him that she had met his father, and certainly not the circumstances. Demeter Heyward could barely be seen next him.

She turned her gaze to the other tables. She knew many of the faces, but couldn't put a single name to any of them. The sorting hat was right; the separation of the houses was a perpetual disaster. How can one share a home with nearly two hundred people and barely know five of them? The teachers knew them all. Certainly the other three houses interacted with one another, and indeed, children from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw were all calling across the room to each other. She looked to Slytherin, aloof, arrogant, and the barrier between them and the rest of the school as real as a brick wall. The Slytherin ghost, the Bloody Baron, certainly had no problem interacting with the other ghosts, so what was wrong with the students. The answer was obvious: wizarding pride. Yes, the sorting hat knew right where to put her. It knew what kind of person she was. The truth was right there in front of her for seven years and she had ignored it and let the children of Death Eaters fill her head with lies and insanity.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore stood and the great hall fell silent. "Now, I trust we are all watered and fed and ready for a few start of term notices. First years should know that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits, and few of our older students should know it, too. Secondly, there are a number of objects forbidden in the corridors. The full list is posted on the door of the caretaker's office. Also, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Eugene Sample." Persephone and the teachers at the staff table clapped politely, as did the students. The Slytherin table didn't applaud at all, likely because of Sample's muggle-born appearance, though he was not muggle-born, with his nicely tailored pants and vest and his glasses. Certainly, he looked the part of a professor.

"Finally, a serious matter has come to my attention recently. I do not doubt the virtue of any of the people within these walls, but I would suggest that secrets spoken between friends should remain between friends, and confidences taken within these walls should remain within these walls for the safety of us all. The matter is serious enough that the Ministry of Magic has seen fit to assign us two aurors to see to our security and one to see to mine. I strongly recommend you give them no reason to question your intentions, else you may find this year very difficult."

Persephone looked toward the Slytherin table again. The entire table was studiously ignoring Professor Dumbledore. Everyone stood to leave, starting with the head boy and girl, then with the prefects guiding students to their various houses. The heads of houses, McGonagell, Sprout, Slughorn, and Flitwick followed their corresponding houses out of the great hall. As the remainder of the teachers stood, it seemed Sample and Moody had something they wanted to say to Persephone, but Dumbledore stopped them.

Professor Dumbledore raised a hand. "It has been a long journey for you, all of us are worn out and tired from the day, and we would be better served to save any further instruction for tomorrow when our minds are rested and bright."

Sample said, "Well, there is still the procedure..."

"It is a simple one. There are teacher's quarters prepared for Ms. Terry, that are positioned reasonably close to mine. She will know to secure my quarters before retiring and to be waiting for me in the morning. Any further instruction can wait until she is rested, and to be frank, you also are too tired to be giving clear instructions at the moment."

Moody took a drink from his flask and said, "Well, can't argue with that. Still, Kingsley and I, we have work to do before we get any shuteye."

Dumbledore turned to the door of the main hall. "Argus!" As the caretaker approached, Dumbledore turned back to Sample and said, "Mr. Filch will show you to your quarters."

With that, Dumbledore directed Persephone to follow him. Following him down the familiar path to his office, she tried see evidence that the place had changed. She knew it was a strange thing to think, but she still couldn't help but look for signs that this world had moved on without her.

Professor Dumbledore said, "Oh, you needn't worry. It all seems so immovable now, but one day it will all move on." They came to the gargoyle that guarded his office. "Fizzing Whizbee." The gargoyle moved aside and they went up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Whizbee?" asked Persephone.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "I love candy. I always have. There are so few simple pleasures so easily indulged." They entered his office. "My quarters are up those stairs and past the bookshelves. Well then, you have been taught how to detect magic and how to identify it. You are free to search the entire office and my personal quarters for any threat, any breach, or any weakness, and if there is anything you can think to add, you may do so."

Persephone suddenly felt very embarrassed. "You do know I am untrained. Nobody actually expects me to be..." she trailed off.

"Ah, but you have assumed the role and like all good actors must play your part."

"Okay." She turned and decided that the first things she should check would be the entrances. She went back down to the gargoyle. Pointing her wand at him, he glowed bright blue. Casting another charm, she saw a kaleidoscope of color. Following the charm back up the stairs, the door into Dumbledore's office shined just as brightly. Entering the office again, on the walls, she could see silver filaments in a spider web all over the walls and the stonework. Dumbledore's peculiar devices and instruments gave off their own varied readings. Passing Fawkes, she absentmindedly scratched the bird atop his head, eliciting a pleasured coo. As she suspected, his room was the same as the rest of his office.

Coming back out into the office, she said, "Not even the Ministry is this secure. There's layers and layers of magic going back centuries protecting these rooms. I always thought there was no such thing as impervious. I think this room just about proves me wrong. Whatever is all over the walls looks like a nasty piece of work. I'd hate to be caught in it, whatever it is."

Dumbledore said, "An extremely ancient and complex piece of magic, literally woven from the strands of the memories of the headmasters of this school, triggering the trap will trap you in another realm with no way to return to this one."

Persephone's eyes widened. "Has anyone ever been caught in it?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "That I know of, nobody has ever been willing to risk triggering it."

Persephone chuckled nervously and looked around at the portraits of the sleeping headmasters and headmistresses of the past. "Well, I can understand why."

"So," said Dumbledore as he went and sat behind his desk, "we understand our errors now, and are ready to correct them."

"How can I correct them, Sir?"

His eyes, as blue as her natural eye color, seemed to look right through her. "Yes, how indeed? Still, such heavy questions should not be asked before it comes time to retire. Better to dwell instead on the fact that you will be righting so many wrongs, whatever it is you are able to do, and that is always a worthwhile endeavor. Your chambers are in sight of the statue that guards my stairs. If I decide to change my password, you will be the first to know. Filch will be waiting at the door of your chambers."

Persephone nodded nervously. "Well, good night then."

"Good night, Ms. Raven."

Persephone left and sure enough, Filch was at a door not ten feet down the corridor, staring at the ceiling. Passing him to enter her chambers, she thanked him, eliciting a grudging smile. Her chambers looked much like Professor Dumbledore's did, with a desk, a small bookshelf filled with a variety of books an auror in training might find useful, a dresser with a mirror, and a four poster bed. She found that her luggage had already been unpacked and her things put away. She found her bed clothes and changed into them and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep. As always, Margaret Prewett and Niles Clearwater haunted her dreams.


	4. The Mind of a Raven

(I usually try to avoid author's notes until the very end, but since there was a correction, I am going ahead now. Special thanks to Lady Cougar-Trombone for pointing out that there is only one Head Boy and there is also a Head Girl. I blame the fact that I'm a Yankee on this error. So, in the previous chapter, the correction has been made.)

The next few weeks at Hogwarts were the most challenging that Persephone had ever encountered. Watching after Dumbledore wasn't very difficult as he spent a great deal of time in his office. Plus, she traded guard duty with Kingsley to give Moody and Sample plenty of opportunity to continue her education as an auror. Every morning, Sample instructed her to do push ups.

"How many?" she asked.

As always, he spoke simply. Never did he yell. His insults were finely veiled. Even as a training coach, he was a proper English gentleman, versed in the finer points of politesse and decorum. "Until you feel like death." She didn't ask again, and she did pushups until she couldn't do anymore. More than once, he would would nudge her hands. "Never on the palms of your hands. Always on your knuckles. That is unless of course, you don't like your cartilage. There you go, elbows tight in your sides. Just like that. It's only painful at first. You get used to it."

After this, she would meet Professor Dumbledore every morning and then accompany him to breakfast. Barty Crouch was there at the same time every morning with the Slytherin prefects. All of the school prefects were there every morning with the Head Boy and the Head Girl. The Head Girl was a Gryffindor named Gwenog Jones. At first she thought that the Ravenclaw girl's prefect, Hestia Jones was Gwenog's sister, but she had been assured there was no relation, and they didn't look related either.

Persephone certainly remembered Gwenog. She was one of the Gryffindor's beaters and had a thing for picking on seekers. She had sent more than one bludger Persephone's way over the years. She had a crease just behind her left ear that came courtesy of one of Gwenog's bludgers. Persephone smiled at the memory of her fourth year match against Gryffindor. Just as she had seen the snitch, a bludger smashed into the side of her head. It had given her a mild concussion, but she ignored the pain and the dizziness and kept after the snitch. That was when Gwenog smashed headlong into her. This was supposed to be a battle between seekers. What was a beater doing in it? Of course, she was trying to keep Slytherin from winning. Madam Hooch had called foul, but it was too late, Persephone had already got the snitch despite Gwenog's efforts. Slytherin won 240 to 190. People said it was the best match seen at Hogwarts in 100 years. It lasted until three in the morning. Persephone would bet people were still talking about it.

The first day of her return, Dumbledore returned with her to his office and he bade her to sit. "I understand that Eugene has exhausted you before the day has even begun."

Persephone said, "I think breakfast was the first break I had in two months."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Eugene always seems to have a very gentle approach, until you find yourself at his mercy, and see what a taskmaster he can be. Really, there are none better for the job of training the future defenders of our world. The most important part of your education will be to defend yourself, and that is what he teaches. We very rarely ask the question, 'What will you do if your wand cannot help you?' but aurors are trained under this very premise. In the life a protector, the time will come when you will be deprived of your wand. You will have some magic but will be at a severe disadvantage. If you do not know how to use them, what will you do if you have only your hands to protect yourself?"

Persephone didn't have an answer for that, and as he said it, she realized that thanks to Eugene, she at least had the strength to fend an attacker off. Then it occurred to her that Eugene had already begun teaching her to fight with her hands. Didn't that obstacle course at the Ministry require her to use her hands as much as her feet?

"Of course, there is one weapon that is more important than any other. One that you cannot be deprived of except in the most extreme of circumstances, and should those circumstances arise then your situation is truly desperate. I am speaking of the mind, and in the profession you find yourself in, you will find that your mind is your most crucial asset, and it is imperative that you be able to defend it. That is why you have come here. Learning to close one's mind is an incredibly simple task. Yet, it is almost impossibly hard. Wizards and witches who have the talent for occlumency and legilimency come by it naturally. It can be taught, but if you don't have the aptitude, it will be extremely difficult.

"There is no course schedule, no preferred teaching, as the same methods almost never work on more than one student. There are teachers who would teach occlumency by creating an environment of crisis, that is to say that they repeatedly break into the student's mind until he or she, becoming frustrated and upset, eventually defend themselves out of desperation. Indeed, it is a method that works, but it's rate of success is, shall we say, wobbly. I have seen the way you think over the course of the past seven years, and the way you learned, and have determined that, although you would benefit from the crisis method, require a more subtle approach. That, plus I do not feel that torturing my students could ever be an effective means of education.

"So let us start by examining the mind." Dumbledore folded his hands together and said, "An occlumens seeks to conceal her mind from intruders, just as you would hide secret writings in a locked diary, or important documents in a bank vault. It is important to note that a door cannot be closed unless you can control the door, either by swinging it with your hands or by some other mechanical means. You will have undoubtedly deduced where I am going with this, but it stands to reason that in order to conceal your mind, you must be able to control it. Can you control your mind, Persephone?"

She opened her mouth to answer but then closed it lamely. "Umm, is this a trick question?"

Dumbledore simply smiled serenely. "I believe that you, like so many, are convinced that the mere act of thinking is controlling one's mind. It is not. In fact, thinking suggests a lack of control. Always we tell our students to use their minds, to think, but we fail to note the paradox in such a statement. In fact, is very difficult, nigh impossible, to NOT use our minds, and to NOT think. In almost every case, acts of what we call thoughtlessness actually comes from over-thinking, or worse, distraction, which is the act of thinking about more than you should be thinking about.

"Therefore, in this class, we are going to endeavor to do precisely the opposite of what teachers try to teach. We are going to learn how to NOT think. I want you to attempt this now. Do the best you can. Do not worry if you do not succeed. That would be a monumental feat. I merely ask that you try. I want you to sit and not think. Don't think of nothing. Thinking of nothing is still thinking. Simply don't think."

With this, Persephone nodded and sat in silence. The Death Eaters, her training as an auror, everything, she pushed it out of her mind. Then again wasn't that thinking? Wasn't deliberately ignoring something an act of thinking? Okay! She wouldn't push those things out. She'd just sit and let her mind idle. She wouldn't think of Dumbledore watching her pensively, or Fawkes snoozing on his perch. She wouldn't think of the paintings of the headmasters that pretended to sleep, only to occasionally peak to see what was happening. The problem was that she was thinking of all of those things.

So she closed her eyes and stared into blackness. The afterimage of Dumbledore faded and she sat in silence. Yes, if she couldn't look at anything, she could keep from thinking about it, and for a moment, she wasn't thinking, and then almost immediately, her right temple started to itch. Then she readjusted in her chair as her leg had started to go numb. She tried again, ignoring the itch, ignoring any discomfort her body may have felt, and again, for a brief moment, she wasn't thinking, and then images began to swim before her. These were random images from her memory and she tried to force those out of the way. She tried again. She ignored the itch, ignored the discomfort, did nothing about the random images, except now, she felt compelled to recall those images.

Professor Dumbledore said, "It's not so easy, is it? After this experiment, let me ask you again: can you control your mind?"

Persephone sheepishly said, "No."

"Of course not. When you are thinking, you are opening up the mind for all to see that are able. When you are not thinking, the mind wanders aimlessly, distracting you with the slightest of irritations. Before I can teach you to close your mind, you must first learn to NOT think, and ultimately, how to think correctly. In order to do that, we must learn how the mind works. The best teacher is experience and observation, but I feel it is safe to tell you that the state of the body directly correlates with the state of the mind. If your body is agitated, then so will be your mind, and vice versa. If your body is calm, your mind will be also. Now, I want you to relax, breathe deeply, and steadily, and then try again. Your goal is to silence your mind."

Persephone did as she was instructed, breathing deeply, and steadily, counting to regulate her breathing, and she tried to not think. She had the same difficulty as before, in fact the exact same problems, but this time, once she started seeing random images again, she let them flow. She didn't try to stop them, but she counted them, just as she counted and timed her breathing.

"Very good," said Professor Dumbledore. "You did not silence your thoughts, but you did something you were unable to accomplish before. You steadied them. What did you do differently?"

"Aside from breathing, I counted. I counted the seconds for each breath. I counted each breath. I counted every time I thought of something."

"You measured and metered your mind's activity. Like a drummer guiding music, you created a rhythm for your mind to follow. Instead of your mind distracting you, you distracted your mind. This should tell you something about how the mind is assembled. It would be easier to describe these aspects of the mind as your 'selves'. The question is, how many of your 'selves' are there? Can you answer that?"

Persephone shook her head no.

"Well then, let's count them. First, there is you. You are the one trying to do these exercises. You are the one trying to not think. You are the one being distracted by the mind, which reveals your second self; your physical mind as whole, who actively seeks to sabotage your efforts, who refuses to be silent, who will not be still, and will not be controlled. Now, you have a third, less obvious self in there; one that you may not have noticed, and people rarely do notice this third self. This self is the Observer. Can you think of where she was?"

Persephone thought for a moment and then suddenly realized that the answer was obvious. "The Observer was the one counting."

"Precisely! You were breathing carefully. You were trying to not think. You could not manage it, so that part of you that acts as an impartial observer, made an effort to monitor and regulate what you were doing. When you counted, that was you stepping outside of yourself to see what you were doing wrong and to try and correct the problem. You did it almost without thinking, didn't you? This is your higher awareness and this is what you must awaken if you are to learn to control your mind. There are a number of ways to access this aspect of yourself. I want you repeat this exercise in your free hours, whenever you are able, and not just that. Use your imagination. There are a number of exercises you could do that require the Observer's participation. Why, counting sheep to go to sleep is just such an exercise. For now, the rest of the time we have alone today should be spent on this endeavor."

The experiment had certainly been enlightening and Persephone realized for the first time that there were aspects of her that she had no idea existed. She had always heard the Ancient Greek saying, "Know thyself", and thought this would have been the easiest of tasks. She always thought it was easy to know ones belief's or ones values, or what one wanted. Then, her own failings, becoming a Death Eater and changing her opinions of Voldemort's vision, had shown her that it wasn't always so easy. Now, she wasn't sure if it was truly possible to know oneself. Professor Dumbledore's lesson had made her feel woefully inadequate, had made her see just how little she really knew, and made her realize that she knew absolutely nothing about herself. It would be at the end of the school day that she would resume her animagus lessons.

Sample with his one free hour joined Persephone and Dumbledore. Persephone's education as an animagus, Sample assured her, could not predict her success. While Dumbledore observed serenely, Sample did all that he could to help Persephone identify with the raven. He even had her act out the bird's mannerisms, acting out flight, pretending to have a fixation for shiny objects, and such. Professor Dumbledore, who had been a transfiguration professor in his day, was a bevy of advice, but this was only to be expected.

Of course, the time came when Sample's class schedule became so much that his instruction to Persephone became uneven. Professor McGonagell, who was the only other animagus in the school, assisted with Persephone's education. The day for her to attempt her transformation came sooner than she expected. Strangely, Dumbledore's occlumency lessons would help, for in his lessons about disciplining the mind, he also began teaching her to try to not just think like other people but to imagine that she was them. His exercises were quite elaborate for simply thinking and using one's imagination. It was also revealing, for she was often asked to imagine herself as someone who had an unflattering opinion of her.

As for McGonagell's lessons, that were every bit as informative and intensive as Sample's lessons, Persephone had never imagined that a single act of transfiguration could be so complicated. The warnings that her lessons contained served to terrify. The dangers were ominous. Losing one's identity was only one concern. Botched transfigurations were often irreversible. Then came the rules of conduct.

"Are these rules for real?" asked Persephone one evening.

"Of course they are for real, Ms. Terry," said Professor McGonagell. "The Ministry wouldn't have seen fit to require them if they weren't for real."

Persephone raised an eyebrow. "So once I'm a raven, I'm really going to be romantically attracted to other ravens?"

"Well, it's only logical. Once you are a raven, you will take on the mannerisms of the bird you are transfiguring into. You will have the same instincts and urges. You must resist these. History is full of the aftermath of those animagi who couldn't control their urges."

"Really? Where?"

"Oh, do use your common sense. Where do you think centaurs come from? Why do you think harpies are part human and part chicken? Anything that is half human and half animal is the result of animagus/beast crossbreeding."

Now that Persephone thought of it, it did make sense. "Well, since you put it that way...I can imagine the trouble a cat can get into."

"Don't get cheeky." Professor McGonagell walked over and pulled Persephone's book away from her. "The rules are a guideline to behavior. Right now, we're worried about pulling off the transformation. Let's go over it. The initial catalyst for transformation..."

Persephone nodded. "There are two types. The easiest method is basic transfiguration using a wand with the form changing spell, veraverto. The second type is more complicated and requires a deeper understanding of your animal form, using the internal magical workings of the witch or wizard. It works on the thought-form principal, or how an untrained magical child may do magic without a wand and without quite understanding how. Of course, the animagus must understand how if the transformation is to be successful."

"Very good. Now obviously, the second method is going to have tremendous advantages over the first method. First, even deprived of your wand you will still be able to transform, and understanding this procedure will illuminate other methods of magic that may be employed without a wand. The usefulness of such knowledge cannot be overestimated. Of course, few drawbacks means great danger. What remains for you is to choose your catalyst."

"Thought-form."

Professor McGonagell paused, taken aback. She hadn't quite anticipated that Persephone would answer so readily. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

McGonagell nodded firmly. "You understand the methods of transfiguration as well as I could hope. I know that much having taught you through your O. W. L.s and your N. E. W. T.s. You have demonstrated an intimate knowledge of the raven that few but experts could claim. Any further study on your part prolongs the inevitable. Now, this isn't like other magical workings. For an animagi's transfiguration, you must succeed your first attempt. Failure could be quite horrific. There are many wizards who do partial animal transfigurations on themselves. They don't realize the risk and a percentage of them always end up permanently disfigured. If nothing happens, then you don't understand how to call forth the magic, and in your case, that is highly unlikely. You have always had an understanding of thought-forms that the most brilliant wizards and witches in history would envy. You know how to will things to happen. Imagine yourself as a raven. Use your child's imagination to imagine yourself with feathers, imagine your beak, imagine your clawed feet-not talons! Crows are not raptors and don't have talons-and then just as when you were a child, need it to be real."

"Should Sample be here for this?"

"I can see no real reason except if he had a need to personally see this through, which he's indicated he doesn't. He wants it to happen as safely and expediently as possible."

Persephone nodded. "Okay." She closed her eyes and imagined flying through the sky, wind racking her body and flowing through her pinions and quills. The ground rushed underneath her, the roads like simple lines etched into the ground, the unnaturally square grids of a town like an image on a canvas. She opened her eyes and let the images follow her into the room, and now she wasn't flying. She was hanging on to the back of a chair with clawed feet. She now faced Professor McGonagell, whose face was inscrutable. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to will her imagination to become reality. She huffed in disappointment.

She asked, "Should I try again?" but instead, her voice came out as a grating squawk. She tried to ask again with the same results. She waved her arms, and instead of hands cutting the air, inky black wings buffeted around her.

"Congratulations, Ms. Terry," said Professor McGonagell. "That was absolutely perfect. Do you care to try your wings out?"

Persephone jumped for the rafters, but in spite of her flapping wings, she plummeted to the floor, catching herself on her wingtips. She tried again, but her flapping only made the dust on the floor swirl around her. She reminded herself of how baby birds learned and that having been a bird for only one day, she certainly qualified as a baby. McGonagell watched patiently as Persephone climbed the desk leg, her claws holding onto the smooth wood perfectly. From there she got a running jump and flapped vigorously as she fell. On several flaps, she felt the wind resist her plummet and she endeavored to hold her wings in that position. Just inches from the floor, she began to rise, and she found that it took little effort to reach the rafters."

McGonagell said, "Excellent!" clearly elated. "Now, before we go any further, might I recommend that transform back-"

Persephone the raven quickly flew out the open window and began to circle the castle. Continual flapping helped her maintain speed, but tired her out quickly, so she glided. She found that if she wanted to go fast, she could change her gliding trajectory into an angle of descent, by which she would pick up speed just as effectively as if she flapped. She felt the same joy from this as she did riding a broom, except she this time, flight wasn't dependent on a device. She was the device. She circled castle again and flew over the Forbidden Forest. Two thestrals rose from it. She knew they hunted birds, but these were Hagrid's thestrals and they were trained not to bother birds. The owls that belonged to the students weren't, though. Ravens were scavengers and therefore fair game to the predatory owls that the students and the schools kept. Owls were a type of falcon, and very quickly two eagle owls had spotted the lone raven in the area.

They were on her quickly, before she had even spotted them. It would be just her luck if her first day as a raven ended with her being eaten by a predator. The first owl grabbed her by the shoulder, and she quickly spun around and dug her claws into his underside. The owl's talons dug into her wing, and she pecked his breast, drawing blood. The owl, surprised by the resistance, let go. The second owl was there to catch her, but she was ready for it. Righting herself, she buffeted it with her wings and racked one of his wings with her claws. As he slowly lost altitude and made his way for the castle rookery, she turned to see where the other owl went and found him coming back for a second attempt. She flapped hard and socked him on the side of the head and then pecked him between the eyes. He had had enough, and left shrieking in protest.

After that, she wasn't quite enjoying herself anymore and returned to Professor McGonagell's office. Her injured wing itched, but didn't hurt very badly and it still worked fine. She had been lucky. She looked down at her claws and found that she had pulled out several pinions from one of her attackers. No wonder he couldn't maintain altitude; she had clipped him.

"Now," said Professor McGonagell, "do you think you could transform back into a human?"

Persephone found that the process took no thought at all.

"Now that won't do. You've lost your disguise."

Indeed, McGonagell did seem taller. She turned Persephone to a full length mirror and she found that she was staring right back at herself. Looking around sheepishly, she pulled out her wand and restored her disguise and made herself taller once more. Professor McGonagell looked at Persephone's shoulder.

She sighed and said, "Well, they don't look like anything worth bothering Madam Pomfrey over. What on Earth possessed you to fly off like that?"

Persephone smiled sheepishly and said, "I don't know. I wanted to fly. That's been all I wanted since I decided to be a raven."

"I see. Perhaps you should reread the Ministry's booklet about controlling urges. I trust you've figured out what happens when you fly without considering everything that could happen. I'm doubly sure you'll look for predators from now on."

Persephone looked down at her feet. "Yes, ma'am."

"No need for that. That was an excellent transfiguration. What an unqualified success!"

"I really did it," said Persephone, still unsure of her own senses.

"You most certainly did, marvelously." McGonagell stood firm. "You still need practice and you need to practice regularly. Your body has to get used to the transformations before you can risk it unsupervised."

Persephone was pleased with her success. Sample and McGonagell admonished her never to transform in sight of anyone. The Ministry rules regarding the registration of animagi were incredibly strict, and Persephone wouldn't be the only one facing severe penalties if caught. As such, she had little time except to practice indoors as her duties as Dumbledore's bodyguard, false though they may be, required her to be visible when he was about and to be in certain places when he wasn't. Furthermore, she refused to go outside again until she learned to effectively fight as a raven. She had been extremely lucky in her previous encounter. Those eagle owls could have easily overpowered her. She had merely had the extreme fortune of pulling out enough flight feathers that one couldn't stay in the sky, and getting close enough to the other owl to hit him in a sweet spot.

Persephone imagined that her lessons were about to get harder, but for the time being, she basked in her success. She never imagined that she would become an animagus so quickly, but Professor McGonagell made it clear that this was one of those transfiguration lessons in which one can only learn so much and then she either does or she doesn't, and there's often not a second chance. Put that way, it only made sense that she learned to do it so quickly. Now, her accomplishments were becoming tangible, and she began to have the sense that she could do this. Before, she wasn't so sure would survive being a spy against Voldemort. Now, she felt as if she had a good chance.


	5. Dancing With Felines

[This is a correction. I have multiple files of each chapter and I posted the wrong file, which was missing several paragraphs. This is the correct file. Special thanks to Lady Cougar-Trombone for pointing it out. I posting this as a new chapter and deleting the old one so that my readers will know that there is more chapter here.]

Evading and resisting predators as a raven in the sky worked on similar principles as evading and resisting predators on the ground. She practiced with McGonegall, who had to be especially careful because the natural secretions on a cat's claws and in her mouth were highly poisonous to birds. If she inadvertently poisoned Persephone as a cat fighting a raven, that injury would stay with her if she transformed back into a human, especially since those same secretions were equally poisonous to humans. Such injuries could be debilitating and were sometimes fatal, even to humans.

Persephone learned how to use her wings as cudgels. Though ravens didn't have talons, their claws were nevertheless sharp, though they had to be used with care as they were nowhere nearly as durable. Of course, the best course of action would be to evade a predator such as a larger horned owl, peregrin falcon, or a kite, each of which could easily overpower a raven. Still, ravens were hearty and hail birds that could hold their own in a fight, and if all else failed, their hard, sharp beaks were an excellent deterrent, especially employed at high speeds, as Filch's cat had the misfortune of discovering one afternoon.

The cat, Mrs. Collins, was elderly and cantankerous but far from decrepit. She had surprised Filch recently by having a litter of kittens, one of whom he kept and named Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Collins was single-minded in her way, and had managed to sneak into Persephone's quarters one day as she practiced being a raven. Persephone found that it was relaxing spending her free time as a bird, though she had developed a taste for the beetles that found their way into the castle, and as a human, she had to resist the urge to lunge for anything that was shiny-yes, ravens were closely related to magpies. She perched on the post of her bed not expecting to have to watch for predators inside the castle.

The shadow was her first indicator. She saw the cat just in time and flew up to the rafters. She was in such a panic that the thought never occurred that simply turning human would resolve the issue. Mrs. Collins was elderly, much older than the cat's average lifespan, and at twenty-two-years-old it seemed likely that the cat was agile enough to make it up to the rafters with Persephone. She was wrong. Elderly though she may have been, Mrs. Collins had all of the agility, energy, spryness, and tenacity of a cat half her age. Leaping deftly to the rafters, Mrs. Collins landed mere inches from Persephone, who buffeted the cat as hard as she could with her wings, and flew off onto the dresser, pursued relentlessly by Mrs. Collins.

Persephone flew straight up and dove straight at Mrs. Collins, affixing her beak firmly to the top of Mrs. Collins' head. The cat did a full somersault and belly flopped onto the floor. She screamed and chased Persephone in earnest, knocking aside anything that was in it's path. Rounding a corner around the bed, the raven had vanished, and a human hand grabbed Mrs. Collins firmly by the scruff of the neck. She looked around at the damage, saw the clawed curtains of the four poster bed, an overturned chair, and all of her personal hygiene things cleared from the top of the dresser. She looked back in the mirror. She had accidentally knocked off her disguise again. Restoring it, she went in search of Filch, who was just coming down the corridor in her direction.

He began to say, "What are you-"

Persephone cut him off. "Is this yours?"

She held up Mrs. Collins by the scruff of the neck, actually slightly lower. The cat blinked lazily. "Me-ow."

Filch's mouth dropped open.

Persephone said, "Keep this furry, four-legged demolition crew out of my room."

Mrs. Collins strained herself to look back at Persephone. "Aroo?"

"Yes, you!" She deposited Mrs. Collins into Filch's waiting arms. "Now, be good, and don't you wreck my room again."

Mrs. Collins looked back at Persephone and said, "Eh."

With a sheepish and apologetic smile, Filch turned and walked back the way he came. Persephone decided not to go back to her room. She needed to return to see Dumbledore at any rate. As she walked, an oily voice said, "A little cat confusion? Trouble with a persnickety kitty?" Persephone ignored the voice, knowing full well who it was. Still, Peeves appeared in front of her. "What's the matter? Cat got your t-t-t-t-tongue?"

Persephone ducked around him. "Blow away, Peeves."

Peeves flew through her, giving her the sensation that she had just been doused with ice-water. "Just be careful not to let the cat out of the bag." Peeves stared pensively into the distance. "Was it Priscilla Raven? Or was it Persephone Terry?"

Persephone pointed her wand and said, "If you dare, I will glue your tongue to your forehead using a permanent sticking charm." Peeves looked cross-eyed at the tip of the wand. "Engorgio!"

Peeves head began to grow exponentially. He gave a rude hand gesture and made a raspberry as he flew off through the ceiling. She found herself before the stone gargoyle and said, "Butterscotch." The stone gargoyle moved aside letting her climb the stairs to Dumbledore's office. If he was surprised that she was a half an hour early, he didn't show it. Over the past few months, Dumbledore had admonished her to reveal nothing to him, to keep close those things she wished to keep secret and even those things she did not care to.

"Ms. Raven, is something troubling you?" asked Dumbledore.

She worked, as Professor Dumbledore had instructed her, to hide her thoughts from him. She sat down at the chair from the other side of his desk. Their schedule was inconsistent. He might have been busy, but as his bodyguard, she needed to spend as much time with him as she could at any rate.

"You know," said Professor Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, "you really can't blame the cat for behaving as cats will."

"I know. I'm going to have to figure out how she got in there. That could be trouble if I can't change without worrying about that bloody cat."

"You needn't worry about Peeves. I will see to him. Besides, for him, if it doesn't produce an amusing response, then the joke isn't worth it."

Persephone took a moment to appraise Dumbledore. "Am I really that easy to read, after all of this time?"

"You may not believe it, but you are making tremendous progress. Still, until concealment becomes a part of your instinctual nature, I fear you will find that your thoughts are open to the perusal of any legilimens who would use them. Still, you have the aptitude, and you have developed skills. When you concentrate, you shut me out completely. The problem is, the skill that will be required to shut out Voldemort is far beyond what you have accomplished. If you have to concentrate on your task then you haven't become proficient."

Dumbledore observed her carefully, then continued. "I know you are content to wait until your lesson, but I see no reason why we cannot begin now. Up until now, we have contemplated the nature of the mind, of thought, of conceptual noesis. I feel that this has taken us as far as we will. Our lessons are about to become extremely dangerous. We are entering the realm of study that explores the very nature of our reality. It explores the reasons behind magic. It explores the reasons for why we even exist. You will be open to new ideas and you will find yourself on a field where you can make powerful friends and find mighty foes. This is a field of study that is expressly forbidden by the Ministry. It goes beyond occlumency and legilimency and is not strictly necessary to learning them, however the occlumens who fails to learn this science is severely deficient in his or her studies. An occlumens or a legilimens enters this realm whether he realizes it or not, and there are people and creatures who will surely notice, even if you do not. This is why I feel it is important."

Persephone tried not to let her curiosity show. "What is this study called?"

Dumbledore smiled ever so slightly, the twinkle in his eye gone. "It is called Emanere, and if I were to define it, I would call it the ability to see the world as it truly is. I must warn you; there are very few human beings throughout history who have ever undertaken this study. There are some who discovered that they could survive death by completely leaving their bodies and dwelling...outside. Should you meet such people, avoid them. There is no good reason they are there."

"So they're not like ghosts."

"Oh no. The principle of how ghosts come to be is the same, but that is a very basic point of nature, and that is where the similarities end. Peeves is an example of one who followed this path and failed. He tried to be more than a ghost. He tried to be one of these phantasm and he did not understand how, fortunately. Voldemort has already made an attempt at least once, perhaps more, and I suspect he has met with a measure of success. This is another reason I wish you to learn Emanere."

"That's why the Bloody Baron says that Peeves isn't really a ghost..."

"Yes, you'll note that Peeves has ability atypical of ghosts. He has greater physical control in the living world. Fortunately, he was never a truly malicious being in life. Perhaps that's why he failed. Perhaps he wasn't evil enough to succeed."

"This sounds like some seriously dark magic. Why risk teaching me? I mean, you already know I'm a Death Eater."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "There is no such thing as dark magic. Magic is only as dark as the person using it. Are you ready?"

Persephone nodded uncertainly. "I think so."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "These lessons will require the use of the pensieve. Simply stated, the pensieve is a device used for storing memories. Halloween is upon us, so we will spend the next few days understanding the principles of Emanere. After Halloween, I will show you how to use the pensieve, and how you might construct your own. If you wish to buy one, you will find that none of the stores in Diagon Alley keep them in stock. It will have to be ordered and it will be rather expensive.

"The question that we all ask eventually is, 'What is real?' We all encounter moments in time, circumstances in which reality seems to suspend itself, and the surreal becomes reality. There are many variables that can contribute to this phenomena, but I think that the two principle experiences that bring about this sense are feelings of great euphoria, an unreality associated with achieving one's deepest desire, and-one which I believe you have deep personal experience with-horror so unspeakable that we are compelled to reject it with every fiber of our being. In both cases, we find ourselves repeating the mantra, 'This cannot be real.'

"When your mind rebels against reality, it attempts to touch unreality. What is real? Is real the ground that you stand upon, or the food you put in your mouth? Is it the wind and the sky? There comes a time when your mind refuses to accept reality, and it will disconnect from your body. This is the essence of Emanere and why occlumency and legilimency are so integral. If your mind is removed from your living essence, how can it be read? This is the secret of occlumency. I have previously said that to some people it comes naturally. If you understand Emanere, you will understand why that is."

Persephone said, "Emanere is the science of leaving the body."

"Rather it is the science of expanding your mind beyond physical reality. There are other worlds wrapped around reality where other creatures live. You can get lost among them."

"Who would imagine that was even possible?"

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "My dear, all living things practice Emanere. When you dream, your mind perfectly balances between your body and your dream."

Persephone thought about that. "I always thought dreams were your mind's way of understanding your memories."

"In a way, yes, and certainly that is all that most dreams are. However, the more deeply we dream, the more disconnected we are from our bodies. These dreams, you cannot remember because they are experienced in a part of your mind that always dwells outside."

"The part that dwells outside?"

"You do not perceive your being in its entirety. There is more to you than flesh and blood and thought. There are many realms in existence, and we dwell in more than one of them, yet we only perceive one. An Emanerie attempts to perceive all that is around him or her."

"What will happen if I accomplish this?" Persephone wasn't aware of how tense she had become. There was something electrifying about this discussion. There was something intimidating about the concept of expanding consciousness outside of reality.

"You will be able to access more layers of the reality in which you exist, certainly. More importantly, you will be able to perceive yourself as another individual does."

"That's what those early lessons were about! When you had me pretending I was someone else and then asking what I thought of...well...me."

"Indeed. Finally, you will truly understand the art of concealment. You will be an occlumens of the highest degree."

"I'll also be a legilimens."

"Yes. As I said, the Ministry, while it has no objection to occlumency, strictly forbids Emanere. Occlumency and legilimency are one and the same thing and are the essence of Emanere. Of course, the bureaucratic mentality that governs clerks and politicians has no room for understanding the subtle nuances of that which it regulates. It is for this reason you must keep this ability secret. It is better that you pretend you never saw the things that you will see, else the keepers of law hold you in the same regard as Voldemort...or Grindlewald."

"You would never teach this to anyone. What makes me different?"

Dumbledore considered her a moment. Pensively, he said, "It is true, that I would much rather not give you this knowledge. I would be much happier if these secrets died with me when the time eventually comes. Fear not! I suspect I will have the burden of this secret for many years to come. I simply say that I wish not to pass this burden on, but in your case, I fear I must. Why? Well, I had wondered whether or not I should tell you and considering what you face I believe it necessary. You are being hunted. It is an Emanerie nearly as strong as Voldemort. It is almost certainly a Death Eater. Whoever it is, does not know who you are, but I fear he or she suspects. What this enemy does know is that someone has betrayed Voldemort and has given information to the Ministry. If this Emanerie discovers you, you will be facing a foe on par with Voldemort...and me. Would you prefer to go into that confrontation unarmed?"

Persephone didn't have to speak. The answer was obvious, and she felt her stomach churn at the notion. Somebody loyal to Voldemort knew her secret and was trying to discover her identity. Professor Dumbledore was teaching her to hide from this hunter. With luck, even if she found herself in the same room with her adversary, she'd be able to hide herself from him or her. The lessons focused on the nature of the world and the many layers into which it seperated. Indeed, there were numerous layers that made up reality all by itself, some seen and some unseen. Ghosts, as it turned out, were trapped between these layers, neither invisible nor corporeal. Indeed, the more Persephone thought of it, in fact, her dreams had become more vivid after her lessons in occlumency began and at Dumbledore's insistence, she began to keep a dream journal.

The more vivid her dreams became, the more notable recurring elements became. There were masks in her dreams; not the Halloween variety, but of those one might find a celebration of Fat Tuesday, decorated with feathers and jewels and painted in pastels. A raven also occupied her dreams. It wasn't a raven like the bird she became or like one she had ever seen. This bird was the purest black there could ever be and it radiated an otherworldly intelligence. It was intimidating, to be certain, but it emanated a deep benevolence. She almost felt as if this bird was Dumbledore, but she knew in her heart that it wasn't. If it were, it would be a phoenix. One other thing in her dreams disturbed her. There was a blank space, like a space something could hide behind. In some dreams it was an empty painting. In a dream she had of the great hall at Hogwarts, there was a blank spot in a chair where someone should have been, and she got the very creepy feeling that someone was watching her. This was the dream she woke up to on October 31st, and she was so alarmed, she employed her non-existent drawing skills to recreate the "blank spot" in her journal, but no color she employed could adequately capture the emptiness of the void. Still, she felt that the overall appearance of the "void" was accurate, right down to the ripples that seemed to flow around it.

The Halloween feast was as festive as any other year and even Persephone's new course of study didn't suppress her appetite, even though she had found her stomach churning with the concept of what she was learning. Looking around the great hall, it seemed noisier somehow, as if the students were shouting through bullhorns. She heard Professor Slughorn say, "If Crestin throws another pumpkin pie this year, I'll give him a month of detentions," but when she turned to him, she realized he hadn't said a word. She turned back to her own plate and noticed that Professor Dumbledore was watching her closely. This was what Dumbledore had told her he had been hoping for. Her meditations since September and her attempts to discipline her mind had opened her up to new possiblities.

That night, her dreams were more vivid than usual. She dreamed she was in a darkened alley full of people. She knew them all but they all wore masks. They were all high quality porcelain masks of a multitude of colors, decorated with feathers. Then they all removed the masks and the faces underneath were blank. One grabbed her by the wrist and told her, "You can't hide forever." He (or she, for Persephone could not tell which) removed his mask to reveal a skull with a snake writhing in the mouth; a macabre representation of the Dark Mark. "Who are you?" the creature asked.

Persephone awoke with a start, her Dark Mark burning on her forearm, but just below it, her wrist stung. She pulled up her sleeve and sure enough, the Dark Mark was black, but there was also fresh, red welts upon her wrist where someone's fingernails had dug in and drawn blood. She looked out into the night and saw two green glowing eyes sitting on her dresser. She screamed in a short burst and grabbed her wand. "Lumos!" The wand shined at the green eyes, revealing their owner.

"Mrs. Collins!" She stood up and grabbed Mrs. Collins under her chest.

Mrs. Collins said, "Rowr?"

"There are no ravens here tonight. Don't you have mice to terrorize?"

Mrs. Collins made a sharp, sassy mew that sounded quiet distinctly like she was saying, "No!"

Persephone opened her door and said, "Well find some." Throwing the cat into the dark corridor, she said, "Go on!" Closing the door, she leaned back against it. She was unable to sleep a wink the rest of the night.


	6. Real Illusions

Sample resumed teaching Persephone hand to hand combat techniques but now, instead of running her through the obstacle course, she was sparring with Sample, Moody, and occasionally Shacklebolt. She was now learning a form of combat arts that muggle English SAS operatives learned that combined European boxing and Asian judo. During Eugene's breaks, they often practiced, Persephone either learning more and more advanced forms, or sparring with Sample, drilling these techniques into her memory. Sometimes, Professor McGonagell would be there, watching pensively. She had no taste for what she called "muggle-dueling".

It didn't take her long to realize that if she relied on her strength, she'd lose most of her battles. Because of Sample's unusual height, he often had to compensate for shorter opponents and this forced him to shift his weight forward. When she realized this, she started directing her attacks lower, aiming for his stomach and his sides, forcing him to defend lower. As for her defense, she learned that she could stay under the majority of his attacks, and after a week, found she was even starting to win some of their matches.

Moody, on the other hand, was much closer to her height, but still had more bulk. She couldn't rely on height advantages and disadvantages, but she could rely on speed. She learned that the secret to fighting Moody was to keep her distance, dart forward to attack, and retreat to avoid his counterattacks. Nevertheless, Moody was consistently harder to beat, but ultimately, she found herself winning against him as well. She suspected that they were reducing their skill to her level because once she started beating them, the fights became much harder.

Her studies of Emanere were nothing if not strange. Of course, she had told Professor Dumbledore about the alarming dream and the wounds on her wrist. At this point, Dumbledore taught her how to use the pensieve and how to put her memories in it. Together, they examined the dream.

"Dreams," said Dumbledore, "do not behave within the pensieve the same way that memories do. A memory consists of what you see and hear and how you interpret them. It is a moment forever trapped in time, doomed to inexorably repeat itself, no matter how you try to intervene. A dream is possessed of secret things within our minds, and they live independent. In the pensieve, a dream will react to you, whereas a memory never would. To an extent, you can even interact with some of the characters of a dream. They are, after all, you."

The experience was unsettling to say the least. Pulling the dream from her memory didn't actually erase it from her memory, but the experience still felt strangely satisfying, as if pressure was being removed from her sinuses. Actually entering the pensieve started with the sensation that the world was turning upside down and it felt as she was being submerged in ice cold water. She fell through the air. No, that wasn't right. She didn't fall; she floated. She landed gently upon the brick alleyway. The walls and the stores were devoid of the usual traffic but the macabre revelers were there, the masks in place, seemingly oblivious to all around them.

Dumbledore appeared next to her they all stopped to regard her. "Now, let us find your attacker," Dumbledore said, guiding her through the dancers that deftly stepped aside for their passage.

As Persephone turned to look at one, it stood eerily still. It was unnatural. The way she stood, it reminded Persephone of those artists one occasionally saw dressed in full costume with full makeup and posing as statues, standing so still that not even a muscle moved. Then Persephone remembered that these were not real people, but images in her mind. She reached to the dancer and removed a mask, and underneath was a bland mannequin's face. The revealed dancer artfully moved back and out of the group, dropping into a low crouch, her arms swept out like a bird taking flight, her head bowed as low as possible, much like a ballerina.

She took the mask from a man, revealing another mannequin. He hopped en pointe for two breaths, pirouetted three times, each turn taking him further back from the group. On the last pirouette, he did a sharp hop step back and landed in a painful looking backbend, the top of his head almost touching the ground, his hand reaching to his absolute zenith. Persephone looked to Dumbledore in confusion. She couldn't fathom why she was dreaming of a ballet troupe.

"What does it mean?"

Dumbledore shrugged with hands up and frowned. "I'm afraid it could mean a number of things. Faceless dancers in Knockturn Alley could mean that you've found yourself in a complex game of dark dimension in which all of the performers are not known, and that would certainly be true, but ultimately, it is your dream and ultimately it is what you make of it. This is, as they say, your party."

"Could my attacker find us here?"

"No. The guards on the pensieve prevent that. If we were using an improperly guarded pensieve, then yes he or she could, but this one is of my own design. You have likely learned much about Emanere from this experience."

"Much of it takes place in dreams. I think I get it. A dream isn't yours alone. The dream is a larger world and when you dream, you're merely occupying part of it."

"Excellent. Splendidly reasoned. Your attacker knows how to enter people's minds as a legilimens, and as an Emanerie knows that he or she can more easily exploit dreams. Your attacker can shield his or her identity, but in order to enter your dream and forcibly confront your mind, at least a part of his or her essence must expose itself, in which case, it will be permanently imprinted in this dream memory. There is a way to do battle on this plain of existence, but it is incredibly dangerous and requires years of study. We will instead focus on securing your mind from further intrusion. Let us continue."

Persephone removed another mask, and another, and another, each removal triggering the same result as the previous two. Soon the walls of Knockturn Alley were lined with dancers in various poses. Now there were three left and Persephone removed another mask. The dancer reacted quickly, latching onto Persephone's wrist, the woman underneath the mask drawing her closer. "The Dark Lord will unmask all of his enemies, starting with you!" A ghost of the Dark Mark wreathed the woman's features. As quickly as the attack began, it ended, the face and the gruesome halo frozen in place.

She was about the same age as Persephone, or perhaps slightly older. She had an Asian appearance and complexion, and that was all Persephone could see, but she didn't have to see more. She knew the face.

Dumbledore said, "I fear I do not know her. She is not one of my students."

Persephone nodded. "She's one of Voldemort's foreign witches. Bella introduced us at a party not long ago. Apparently she belongs to a group of witches and wizards in some Chinese criminal organization that Voldemort wants to make friends with."

Dumbledore tugged on his beard. "Crouch immediately began using the information you furnished the Ministry. You are listed among five Death Eaters that have been captured and are labeled as 'difficult'. Regardless, they must suspect that one of you has given testimony to the Ministry. My own sources tell me Voldemort is using foreign witches and wizards to weed out possible traitors amongst the Death Eaters."

Persephone said, "That would make sense. They'd be an unknown element without any personal or familial attachment to the suspects and any Death Eater who had something to hide would be second guessing everything and looking over his shoulder. It's a good way to trip someone up."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You're beginning to think like an auror. I feel we've learned all we can from here. Let us leave and consider what we've learned. I wish I could keep you for the entire year, but time and necessity work against us." They exited the pensieve and Persephone found herself in the warmth of Dumbledore's office. "You must be able to resist Voldemort's legilimency soon. I fear before Christmas comes, and it is only weeks away. Now, you must be able to resist attacks from the dream world. I fear we must alter our schedule. What Sample has taught you in the ways of fighting must suffice. The success of your mission depends upon the ability to hide your mind."

Persephone found that statement foreboding as it suggested that almost all of her time would be dedicated to these lessons. She was right. While there was some time each for her to practice sparring, almost all of her time was dedicated to occlumency and Emanere. They would go several hours a day until she was mentally exhausting. Dumbledore assured her that when she found the lessons refreshing and found that she was relaxed was when she would find that she was becoming proficient in Emanere.

"Exhaustion," he said, "is a physical condition. Your mind has no such limitation. If this exhausts you then you have not yet begun to control your mind. Your mind is using physical resources wastefully. An exhausted person should be able to enter a trance and come out of it refreshed as if he had had a full night's sleep."

The day came when she sat and quieted her mind. When Dumbledore asked her to open her eyes, she found that while she had begun while the sun was still high, yet it was now dark. "The mind of your true self, of the Observer, has no sense of time. When your mind is still, time ceases to be. During the time you meditated, I could deduce no thought, no activity, and no dreams. For the space of four hours, you were an enigma. If you can accomplish this each time you go into your trance, you will have mastered the first discipline of Emanere.

Now that Dumbledore was convinced that Persephone could control her mind, he taught her to expand it. By silencing her mind, she could now listen to sounds that couldn't be heard before. She listened to the thoughts of surrounding students and even of their animals. This was only the beginning, though. Dumbledore began giving her complex tasks. For example, upon going into meditation, Dumbledore would ask her to go to Parliament and locate a Boston fern.

"If there are no limits to your mind, then there are no limits to its reach. Practice this as you wake and as you sleep." Persephone understood this command. She had to be as guarded in her sleep as in her waking days. "You must learn to have control over your dreams. Lucid dreaming is a necessity. It is imperative that your dreams not control you."

It was not necessary for Dumbledore to make such a request. As her mind became more and more disciplined, she found that her dreams became easier to control. The key to controlling one's dreams was to be aware that one was asleep. Persephone was now so observant that from the moment she went from waking to dreaming, she was fully aware she was dreaming. Wandering through her dreams, she found she could even visit other people's dreams. Many of the teachers were closed to her, all of them practicing occlumency, and a surprising number of Slytherin's also know how to close their minds, but she was able to peek into the dreams of others. It felt wrong, and she didn't like the idea that she was impeding on their personal thoughts, but it wasn't as if she was going to use any of it. It was only for practice, right? Nevertheless she withdrew.

There was a void in her dreams. It followed her and the closer it got it gained more substance. Just as she was getting desperate to avoid it, it occurred to her that this was her dream. Weren't her dreams hers to command? She decided that she didn't like this void, and it vanished like that. She could have sworn she heard it shout in frustration.

"I was wondering when you were going to send her packing."

Persephone spun around, startled to be so addressed. She supposed it was just an element of her dream.

"I am not just a dream. I'm as real as you, I am!"

Persephone spun around again. She couldn't make out her surroundings and then envisioned herself in the Slytherin common room. The green glow from the lake permeated everything as luxurious couches appeared around a spacious room. Reclining on one of the couches was diminutive woman, at least two feet tall, but she was beautiful and splendidly proportioned. She had long, silvery-blonde hair and she had wings. They were a membrane, like a bat's wings, but they weren't ugly. They extended from her shoulders and she draped them around herself. She wore a silvery robe that flowed like water. Persephone almost expected to see a wand with a giant star at the end, but there was none.

"You're not a dream?" asked Persephone.

"You're as thick as a brick, you are!" said the tiny woman, quite cross. "I already told you I'm not a dream. I'm a leannan sidhe!"

"You're a fairy?"

"Well, duh! Don't you see the wings? That beastly one's been coming for ages now. I was beginning to think you liked having her snooping around in your dreams."

"I didn't realize I could get rid of her so easily."

"Well, you can only get rid of her if you know she's there. I've been trying to hold her back for the longest. Awful strong, she is."

Persephone asked, "So why are you helping me?"

"We have a tradition among my kind. Have you ever heard of the fairy godmother, or the guardian angel?"

"Sure…"

"And Professor Dumbledore told you that once you opened your mind to beyond your normal world you begin to encounter other creatures you never dreamed existed."

Understanding dawned and Persephone could feel her reaction to this tiny revelation.

"We are linked to humans. Now there's loads more humans than us, but when we've grown up and are no longer wee ones, we go out to find wee humans and we begin the best we can to help a family raise that wee one. I've been here all your life. Sometimes you hear me. Sometimes you don't. By the way, I tried to tell you that you were being a blockhead going along with those Death Eaters."

"So you've been guiding me all of my life?"

The fairy nodded.

"And now I've learned how to contact you, so I can contact fairies in general now?"

"Now most of us don't be friendly. There's rules to be following. You big folk made a promise to us long ago, and you've not been keeping it. Some of the fairy folk's awful sore about that."

But Persephone was lost in her own thoughts. "I have a fairy godmother!"

"Are you listening, then?" The leannan sidhe threw her arms up in exasperation. "Blast it, she don't hear even when she do know you're there. Will you be wanting some glass slippers, then?"

"I'm sorry," said Persephone, quickly, not wanting to anger the very first extra-worldly creature she had ever met. "I just can't get over how cool this is."

The leannan sidhe seemed to like that. "You're lucky, you are. My kind are rare. We guide musicians, artists, poets, and creative sorts."

"What's your name?"

The leannan sidhe jumped up, standing as tall as she could, which wasn't very impressive. "You see? You don't know any of the rules. You humans always go about shouting your names. You give everyone all kinds of power over you and then you wonder why your world's such a mess. You never give your name. You never ask for another's name. I'm not giving you mine."

Persephone bent her head contritely and said, "Sorry."

"There's lots of things on this plane besides fairies and you don't want to be meeting most of them. Don't give them your name, ever."

Persephone nodded absently. "They're not the ones I need help with." Persephone looked at the leannan sidhe and remembered a few of the superstitious tales the muggle side of her family told and how her mother would laugh at them. "My grandmother always said that leannan sidhe were vampires."

"Blarney! That's a baseless accusation by Yeats!"

Persephone smiled and said, "I'm glad I met you."

"And I'm glad you got your head on straight. I'm here to help, so you listen, and fortune willing we'll get you out of this mess alive."

She spent almost all of her time asleep trying to keep her intruder from entering her dreams. So when she awoke, she was exhausted. Add to that, she learned that she would be returning to the Ministry for the Christmas holidays. Apparently, her dear, deceased father had arranged with his contacts in the Ministry to visit with her. She, Sample, Moody, and Shacklebolt were all very interested to see who was claiming to be her father.

Her occlumency and Emanere lessons continued in force, and on the night of the Dec. 22 Christmas Feast, Dumbledore said, "We end our lessons here until you return. Persephone, I want you to know that you have progressed marvelously. While you still are not at the level of occlumency I would like, if it should prove necessary, I am confident that you can avoid Voldemort's gaze. I am reluctant to allow you to leave for London tomorrow morning, but given the circumstances I don't see how it can be avoided. I strongly suspect that events shall transpire to prevent you from returning here after tomorrow. If I am wrong, and I hope I am, I wish you to return and complete your training as an occlumens. If I am right, then I pray you have all that you require within your arsenal to resist the forces arrayed against you. You should know, that if you have any questions, or doubts, you can visit me in our dreams."

With that, they went down to the feast and Persephone was sure Dumbledore was right. Although the plan was for her to return here on the Knight Bus after her mysterious, she knew in the pit of her stomach that things were going to go wrong. Perhaps it was the fact that Dumbledore had tried so hard to finish her lessons before Christmas holiday. Perhaps it was the preeminent danger presented by the Emanerie hunter that had invaded her dreams. Whatever it was, it was plainly telling her that this would be her last night in Hogwarts.

Using her Emanere lessons, she guided her dreams to her fairy friend, and together, they guarded her from the monsters in the closet, both real and imagined. The next morning she took her meager belongings, all of them, just to be safe, and left her room. A tiny voice said, so that she could barely hear, "You're not leaving? You're coming back, right?"

Looking to see where the tiny voice came from, a mournful "rowr" came from the area of her feet and looked down to see Mrs. Collins sitting at attention. She had mixed feelings about the little furball. Still, she bent down and picked her up. Petting Mrs. Collins, she tried her best to console the elderly feline. Her attaché bag strapped to her shoulder, and the rest of her luggage taken down to Hogsmeade station by the castle house elves, she carried Mrs. Collins a ways, before handing her to Mr. Filch. "She just wanted to say 'goodbye'," said Persephone.

Occupying the same compartment as they had the last time, Sample and Shacklebolt sat in silence, exhausted from their multiple duties. Moody, on the other hand, took the time to review everything he could about poisons and antidotes, disguises, dangerous magical creatures, spells, charms, hexes, and how to communicate in code.

Halfway into the journey, she sat in a daze, Moody still carrying on. He could tell she wasn't following her, but she had committed so much of it to memory that whenever he tested her, she was still able to give the right answer. She could have sworn she saw her leannan sidhe sitting next to Sample looking just as dazed as she was. More than that, she thought she could see all kinds of creatures in the compartment that weren't there before.

There was little green man with a leaf fashioned into a hat, sitting on the windowsill looking longingly at the countryside. There was a hideous reptilian creature with long rabbit ears and tremendous sharp teeth wearing a top hat. She realized she knew what he was. A great-uncle that had fought during the First World War spoke of these hideous little creatures. It was a gremlin. Those sharp teeth liked to chew on cables and eat radio equipment, and their enormous mouths liked to drink petrol. If the plane they were feasting upon should crash, they could jump to safety, landing upon their top hats. Looking around and outside the compartment, she could see a number of gremlins.

Giant bugs crawled across the floor, but when they stood, she could see they actually little men that looked a good deal like bowtruckles, but not as wooden. She sat up, now fully alert and these creatures vanished. For a moment, she wondered if she imagined it, but didn't think she did. This must have been the world that Dumbledore could see. It must have been this enchanted vision that made him so delightfully mad and charmingly whimsical.

"You didn't hear a word I said!" said Moody.

Persephone turned sharply to him and said, "You were saying that the fingernail trimmings from bowtruckles could cure skin molds, fungi, and other irritations. Bubotuber pus shouldn't be used for such complaints because it's so astringent. It's better for curing rashes, warts, and acne."

Moody blinked several times and said, "Yes."

When they finally arrived in King's Cross station, Persephone worried that she might be stepping these tiny creatures that she knew were there just beyond her sight.


	7. Above and Below

Entering a building through a commode was a most curious sensation. Persephone could feel the water swirling around her feet, and yet she felt perfectly dry. It seemed the next logical step was to flush the toilet, which she did, and of course, she flushed along with it. It seemed to logically follow that she would end up in a fireplace. She stepped out and looked down the walkway, along which numerous witches and wizards were coming and going via floo powder. Everyone was getting ready to go home.

Persephone had gotten off of the train an hour ago and Sample had decided it was best if she return to the Ministry as soon as possible. Once she made her way through the throng, she and Sample made their ways down to the auror office. Indeed, the building beneath the Atrium was virtually deserted. Going through the offices, Sample finally came to the head auror's office and found a bald woman sitting behind the desk, apparently engrossed in a parchment in front of her. Tattoos of snakes covered her bald pate and she wore plain black robes.

"Agnes," said Eugene, "So you're the one that Crouch is replacing me with."

Without looking up, Agnes said, "No. He told me that while you were gone, he would prefer Moody. I'm just filling in until someone Crouch likes comes along."

"Replacing you?" asked Persephone.

"Certainly," said Sample, "I can't very well the auror office while I'm busy teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts up Hogwarts, now can I?" Agnes looked up questioningly and Sample clapped his hands. "So sorry. Agnes Fury, this is our newest addition to the ranks, Priscilla Terry."

Agnes stood abruptly. There was nothing friendly about the woman, but she was at least civilized. "Ah, yes. Moody gives you very high marks. You'll make a fine addition. Lord know we can use the help." Agnes looked over to Sample and said, "It's awfully late. I was just getting ready to leave. Was there something you wanted?"

"Oh, we're going to be here quite some time. I'm afraid I have a lot of work to do before returning to Hogwarts. This affair has doubled my work load. I have to make sure things will be sailing smoothly for you, or whoever Crouch decides to finally substitute me with. Then when I get home, I'll be spending most of my time preparing for the school year. I may not even go home tonight."

"And Ms. Terry will be helping?"

"Her current assignment came after she had just barely finished training. Bit of a rush, really. Albus selected her personally so we were stuck with it. We have to make sure we stay on the same page."

Agnes nodded absently. "Well, I am leaving. You don't need a babysitter." She got up and as she turned to leave, she stopped. "Oh, Cornelius Fudge, over in International Cooperation wanted to talk to you; said it was urgent. He said he was pulling an all-nighter, so he should be there."

Sample nodded. "Okay. I'll get Ms. Terry settled in and then I 'll go see him."

Once Agnes was out of earshot, Sample turned to Persephone and said, "Never, ever let that woman know who you are."

"Who is she?" asked Persephone.

"A psychopath. Crouch brought her in because she kills without a second thought; her and her sisters. They're true government employees, meaning they'll work for whoever is in charge...even Voldemort." Sample went around to the desk and began to check through the files. "We have records of four suspected Death Eaters in the cells downstairs." He continued to sift through records and after few minutes, gladly declared, "She was content to let them rot. She's never personally gone down to see who was in there."

"Who's in there?"

"You, for one."

"Well, then. I have something to be glad for."

"You surely do. Nobody except the jailer goes down there without the okay of whoever Barty puts in charge of the auror office, and the jailer is in on our little ruse."

"Then some of them could be innocent of what they're accused of and they're just left in there."

"They could very well be. That's the problem when dealing with organizations that operate in secrecy. Barty is hoping to force a confession out of the other three."

"But in those conditions, they'd say anything."

Sample smiled humorlessly. "I know, and people have made false confessions to get out of those cells. Did Barty understand that it was his conditions that caused the problem? Of course not. He sent them to Azkaban for false testimony."

Persephone couldn't understand this. Bartimius Crouch was behaving no better than a Death Eater. "Dumbledore approves of this?"

"Of course he doesn't. He's been at odds with Crouch about it since this war started. We don't like the situation, but we also understand the intricacies of fighting a war." Sample looked up at Persephone meaningfully. "Don't be fooled by popular tales and media opinion. In war, there's no such thing as good guys. There's only the side you agree with and the side you disagree with." He turned back to the auror files as he said, "There are no innocents in war. So ask yourself: who's worse? Us or them?"

"How do I decide?"

"What would Voldemort do with society if he was in control? You already know how he feels about muggles and muggle-borns." Sample handed her a file off the top of the inbox. Persephone opened it and found an image of a building in ruins with the Dark Mark hovering above it. It was a school. 20 children and their teacher had been murdered. The muggle-worthy excuse was a sinkhole. Persephone put the file down, a sudden weight in the pit of her stomach. Sample smiled and said, "Nothing's ever easy. Go to your room. Meet me in the course tomorrow morning so we can go over stealth and secrecy. Maintain your disguise."

Back in her room, she found a bunch of packages, clearly wrapped for Christmas. She found a rather small package from Moody. Opening it, she found a sneakoscope. She'd have plenty of use for that. Sample had given her a diary. The card read, "This is for those secrets you never wish to forget. Happy Christmas."

There was a package from her mother. In all this time, she had never wondered what had happened to her mother. Now she realized that her mother must have been in hiding. In the package was a rememberall with a card reading, "Never forget that you always have a home to come to." In addition to the rememberall was a dried marigold glued to a card that read, "After winter, spring must ever bloom." Persephone, with great care put the card inside the back page of her diary, affixing it with a permanent sticking charm. There was one last package. There was no name on it except her own, written in a thin, slanting writing. Unwrapping it, she found a silver raven. A piece of paper fell out with it, and in the same script, said, "This once belonged to your father and now it belongs to you. Never forget: to thine own self be true."

She picked up the silver raven and examined it. It was inlaid in gold. The two large hooks at the back of each wings showed clearly that it was a clasp for a belt or a cape. Then she realized that the raven itself was a seal, like a badge indicating family status. Her mother had once told her that her father was a duke or some such, but this was the first time she had ever held evidence. Still, who would have it, if not her mother? The handwriting on the note looked familiar, and she was sure she had seen it recently, but she couldn't place it.

As it turned out, her lessons in stealth and secrecy mostly covered what she had already learned from Moody and from Dumbledore. There was always more for her to learn however. She began learning techniques she knew she would have no time between now and the end of term to perfect. This included non-magical means of concealment such as "dressing in darks", learning how to blend into shadows, and how to walk soundlessly. This also meant using the obstacle course to learn how to identify environmental features to hide in. Disappearing in a crowd wasn't as easy as it sounded. It was one thing to walk into a crowd of people, but a diligent hunter could still locate memorable features. Disappearing into a crowd would also mean perhaps shedding an overcoat or changing hair color, either magically or by donning a wig. In other words, disappearing in a crowd required one to look like someone else.

Of course, the magical methods had already been drilled into her ad nauseum: disillusionment charms, memory charms, polyjuice potion, clayface potions-a potion that allowed the drinker to indefinitely change the shape of the face until dispelled and wasn't a very good one as one could easily deform his or her face-aging potions, hair growth potions, and charms for physical alterations. In a pinch, even hexes could be used to hide one's identity, such as the stinging hex.

After two days of this review, Sample called out, "As long as I know where you are, you are not getting a pass." Persephone had tried everything. Moody had an uncanny knack for seeing through her disillusionment charms. It wasn't enough to be invisible, she found. If someone saw her traveling from point A to B, being invisible in point B was useless, and if she was invisible while traveling from point A to B, there was always something to indicate where she was. Her goal was to get from the potions room to the course exit without being spotted by Sample, Moody, and Shacklebolt.

She started without magic. There was a below level running course that ran alongside the potion room that she could hide easily enough in. However, Shacklebolt checked this track every three minutes so she had to make sure she timed him properly and got to her next point quickly and quietly enough. At the end, there was absolutely nowhere to hide. There was a platform seven feet above the floor at this point. She had gotten this part down to a science. She had reached a bend in the track so she could hide from Shacklebolt. As long as Shacklebolt was looking down the track, he wouldn't catch her at this point. Eventually, Moody and Sample would both be looking away from her. At this point, she scaled the wall as quickly as she could, aided by a levitating charm, and laid flat upon the platform.

This part was easy enough. The next platform had a swinging rope. Summoning it to her, she would swing down, this taking her in the direction of one of the climbing walls. Grabbing onto it, the wall obscured her so that her three teachers couldn't see her. At this point, she disillusioned herself. Climbing up the wall, she would then jump to the next platform. Now came her problem. From here to the exit, there was no where she could hide. None of the platforms or climbing implements were sufficient to hide behind or blend with and there was pattern on the wall. If her disillusionment charm wasn't perfect, this was where Moody would spot her. Even still, she had to open the door and this led to the final problem. Sample's patrol route was laid out so that at all times, at least two of them were watching the door. This was why the majority of the test was relatively easy.

Her seventh time through, she went through all of the things she had done wrong. While disillusioned, she had tried creeping, crawling, hugging the wall, and levitating. Twice, she had managed to get to the door unseen, but she couldn't get out without being spotted. Now, Persephone pointed her want at the door and it flung open. Sample pointed his want at the door and said, "Finite." When nothing happened, he looked around, a curious expression on his face. As everyone watched the door, Persephone dropped from her platform and laid flat on the floor.

Moody turned and began scanning the room. Kingsley went to the door and looked out. As he came back in, he shut it. "She has to still be in here." When he went to stand beside Moody, Persephone opened the door again. Again, Sample tried to break her disillusionment, but she wasn't where he expected her to be. Pointing her wand up, she jarred the platform she had just jumped from. As all three aurors turned to it, Persephone began to creep towards the door.

"Sorry, Ms. Raven," said Sample. "You've been caught again."

Once everyone's back was too her, she stood and ran as quickly as she dared for the door. Exiting, she closed it behind her silently. Breaking her disillusionment, she went and found a hall vendor and bought a cauldron cake and a root beer. When she returned to the course room, she found Sample waiting for her.

"Not bad," he said. He smiled and patted her shoulder. "Do it again."

It wasn't until the end of the week that Sample was satisfied with Persephone's ability to move about the Ministry unseen. He made a point of telling her that she was a novice, but that they had sent out aurors less able than she. It was two days before the train was to take her back to Hogwarts that she had what she felt was a rude surprise. It was after hours once more and they were sitting what was soon to be Moody's office-Persephone wondered how he'd take it considering Moody wasn't one for administration-, Crouch having convinced Sample to take Dawlish to Hogwarts instead.

"I want you to go back to the cells," said Sample. "I want you to have a solid notion of the effects of the dementors. I am also hoping that it will help your occlumency as evidence shows that occlumens' have a certain level of resistance against them."

Persephone searched Sample's expression. For the first time, she tried to use her legilimency but came across an impenetrable barrier. "What are you not telling me?"

Sample looked at his desk as though wishing that it, instead of he, could tell her the bad news. "We've always known that Voldemort has followers in the Ministry. We've never been sure who, but mine and Dumbledore's spies within the Death Eaters confirm that they are coming by information from within the Ministry. We know they have direct access into the Department of Mysteries, and we have known for awhile that the dementors would much rather lend their support to Voldemort than to the Ministry. Blessedly, they don't have anyone in the auror office. We know this because we also have pipeline to them. Dumbledore think's they're going to attempt a rescue and if they succeed and you aren't in the cell, that's going to make your alibi a bit difficult. You see, the dementors of Azkaban have turned. They are willingly releasing Death Eaters, so they know you're not there."

This explained Dumbledore's intuition and urgency before the Christmas holidays. If Persephone's role as a double agent was to work, there was no way she could return to Hogwarts. "So we're moving ahead?"

"We are. Professor Dumbledore tells me that he has taught you Emanere. Considering how restricted that is by the Ministry, I'm uncomfortable knowing even that much, but it was necessary. You know your methods of secret communication. If they all should fail, and believe me, it happens frequently, know that as a last resort you can communicate with other Emanerie's through your dreams. You'll be able to contact Professor Dumbledore. You can also contact me, but since I'll be at Hogwarts until June, that'll be useless until July. I don't trust anyone else. I wish Moody was an Emanerie." Sample gave her a long, appraising look. "The jailor will show you where he's keeping your belongings."

Again, she took that trip downstairs, and again she felt that coldness enter her. Upon entering the dungeon, Persephone removed her disguise, returning herself, finally, to normal. Dementors floated up and down the jail. How anyone could rescue her from the center of the Earth, Persephone did not know, but she realized something else. Sample had been right about her exposure to the dementors. It was necessary. She would not be a convincing rescue if she was warm and lucid. Then again, the dementors weren't affecting her as they were before. At first, they wrenched into her mind as before, but this time, her natural revulsion led her to a less primal response. This time, she employed methods that she knew would shield her mind. It was natural and responsive and she heard their attacks as through a hollow tunnel rather than feel them. They were as invasive as ever.

Soon she was driven into herself in a manner she had never experienced. She literally saw the world on a different level. Here, the dementors were tangible, physical creatures. They lived here without their cloaks and they were something truly horrific and alien. Their skin was gray and mottled, not the scabby substance that one occasionally saw leaving their sleaves. The skin hung loose, more like wet lint than flesh, and yet formed around them so that they appeared as skeletons. There were no eyes and no nose, only a round pit in the center of their faces barely suggesting a mouth. Their heads were merely round lumps upon their shoulders. There was no neck. On each hand, they had three fingers and three toes. They seemed as demons, but now they were tangible and Persephone could physically resist them if they chose to attack. Then the truly frightening observation revealed itself: nothing, absolutely nothing existed in the same realm with the dementors.

Finally, she began to gain an inkling what these creatures were, and they didn't seem so frightening, but they were so much more repulsive for it. She was beginning to see the basis for many of Professor Dumbledore's disagreements with the Ministry. For the dementors were as human as they could possibly be without ever having been human. They were created by humanity's worse aspects, taken a life their own, they were a reflection of the worst of humanity. Incubi and succubi, which of which, she could not say for their gender was by no means apparent, they were hormunculi, artificial creations of human greed, hate, and deceit, and they didn't truly exist beyond their genuine imitation of greed and their debauchery and lust. That was why they hungered for souls: the more they could take, the more real they became, and that was why those who had the deepest sorrow were most deeply affected by them. They thrived upon misery and despair. They dwelt in graveyards where visitors were wracked with sorrow. They dwelt in prisons where convicts wallowed in guilt and some even felt remorse-those convicts that were innocent of what they were accused didn't count as they didn't experience emotions that the dementors were remotely interested in except resent, and that was poor fare for a dementor because resent carried within it self-justification: the sense of right. They'd be pitiable except that because of their very nature, the horrors loved what they were.

Persephone realized that these creatures didn't deserve to be fed and that they were so awful, it was even a crime to give the emotions of people who deserved their attentions. Better to be rid of the monsters than to walk that moral line. To sustain evil as an excuse for holding evil at bay was reprehensible logic. It was cyclic, self-effacing, and ultimately was more indicative of a despotism that desired control than a government that desired to hold evil at bay. Sample's admonition about innocence and war came back to her and she realized that neither Voldemort nor the Ministry were particularly desirable allies. Then she realized that there was nobody better, and thus she resolved to be on her own side. Then she remembered the card from her mysterious benefactor that had given her the raven: to thine own self be true.

She had no idea how long she had been there, only that she had handed over her robes to the jailor after changing into a worn out gray jumpsuit. Thus she could not say that it was three o'clock in the morning, nine hours after Sample left, that a deafening explosion filled the dungeon. She could not say that she had been meditating upon the nature of the dementors for eight hours, but only that she had meditated for so long because she was intent on keeping them out of her mind. The ear-shattering blast came as complete surprise. She was lifted bodily off of her bench and sprawled out onto the cold stone floor.

When she stood, she found that both of her knees had been skinned, her ears rang loudly with tinnitus. She snapped her fingers in each ear. She could only barely hear it, the popping sounding distant and coming from behind a distant wind. Still, that she could hear it was a relief. It meant that her deafness was only temporary. Now, she looked around. Her bench was torn free from the wall, explaining why she found herself unseated. Her cell door was hanging off of one hinge. Dampness began to touch her feet and she looked down to find that water was pouring into the cell. A sharp inhale told her that the water was rancid. The door fell the rest of the way open and a young witch only a few years older than Persephone, and only slightly taller than she entered. Concerned eyes turned bright with triumph under hooded lids.

Bellatrix Lestrange wrinkled her nose at the water and yelled, "Well, come on! What are you waiting for?"

Persephone sloshed through the water, following her aunt through the door, which fell off of its other hinge as she grabbed onto the handle. The dementors were nowhere to be seen as the patronus of a margay-a small type of Amazonian cat with large ears that looked a bit a like a cheetah-prowled around the dungeon. The jailor, Persephone noted, was nowhere to be seen. Three other people were pulled from cells by Anton Dolohov-the margay was his patronus. The big blonde Russian turned his bulk to one and said, "Who is this?" The wizard in was a small man with freckles and glasses who looked like he could have no more been a Death Eater than Moaning Myrtle. Indeed, he looked like the male version of Moaning Myrtle.

"No clue. Put him back where you found him," said Bellatrix.

"Wait," said Persephone. "Bring him. He can identify you and the Ministry only suspects we're Death Eaters. They don't know for sure. Leave anyone down here and they'll have confirmation."

Bellatrix thought for a moment and this seemed to make sense. She turned to Dolohov and nodded. Thus, after gathering her belongings and the belongings of her cellmates, Persephone accompanied four Death Eaters, and one fool who had no idea what was going on or what was to become of him into the sewers of London. No wonder St. Mungo's objected to being underground. The water of the sewer was positively foul. Waste from countless sources polluted the unnatural river; human waste, paper waste, general garbage, money, and inexplicable items such as baby strollers, purses, and bicycles. Bellatrix picked up any purse or wallet she found and searched it. On two occasions they were full. She discarded the money and kept any identification cards.

"You'll never know when you may need to become someone else," she said to Persephone.

They exited in an alleyway behind Cambridge Road. Dolohov turned to the little wizard and said, "What do we do with him, now?" There was no question in his eyes, but a lurid anticipation not unlike a dementor.

Persephone already had her wand out. "Just what the lord would have us do with any pureblood." Pointing the wand between the little wizard's eyes, and without a word cast a memory charm. The little wizard's eyes unfocused slightly, and Persephone shoved him out into a throng of passing muggles. "He'll remember the explosion and fleeing the dementors. That'll be good enough for the Ministry."

Dolohov looked disappointed but Bellatrix beamed in approval. "Well," she said, "this isn't the uncertain child Lucius introduced to the Dark Lord last year. When did you become so decisive?"

Persephone met Bellatrix' gaze and said, "Getting thrown in a hole with dementor's can do that to a person." Persephone looked at the other two Death Eaters that had been rescued. One, she knew as Mordred Adler. He had been a year ahead of her in Slytherin. "They screamed out constantly when they came in."

"Our lord will want details."

"He'll have them."

"Let's go to Lucius' house then."

"Lucius? The Ministry knows we meet there. There's a spy."

Bellatrix's face fell. "A spy? How can there be a spy? Nobody can hide from the lord."

"How do you think I was captured? What have you heard, that I fought some grand battle with a muggle-lover? I never even saw the man. The aurors were waiting for me."

Dolohov said, "He won't like this."

"You don't say," said Bellatrix, sneering. "This explains everything that's gone wrong lately. Anton and I were put on the wanted list around the time you disappeared."

Persephone was quietly relieved. Bellatrix had made the connection, but drew precisely the conclusion Persephone had hoped she would. Bellatrix looked around. Mordred was still an invalid, but the other Death Eater seemed to be coming to his senses. Persephone could see in his mind that he was emboldened by her apparent strength. He had no idea she hadn't been in that cell all along.

Bellatrix drove her fist into her palm and said, "Damn it. There's a spot down by the docks we can go. We'll apparate and the summon the Dark Lord there."

Everyone who was lucid agreed to the plan. Looping their arms together, Persephone felt the uncomfortable sensation of apparation, that cold tube squeezing her through oblivion and just outside of a Victorian flat. Persephone, at Bellatrix' prompting, turned to the flat and stepped toward the doorway. There was no turning back now.


End file.
